


IV

by writeranthea



Series: Behind the Façade [4]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Character Death, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt No Comfort, I would personally fight Friedrich Wilhelm I. if I could, Intrigue, Karl Eugen should be a warning on his own, Kidnapping, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Violence, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-10-29 03:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 62,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17799920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeranthea/pseuds/writeranthea
Summary: “I am so sorry,” Friedrich whispered, his voice breaking as he leaned his cheek against Giacomo‘s head while running a soothing hand over the younger man‘s back, “I am so sorry, Sanssouci, I would have been here sooner if I only would have been able to. Oh God... I am so sorry...”





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Since Giacomo had not turned down his offer of arranging for him to sleep somewhere else, Friedrich had assumed that the younger man would simply retreat to bed once it would be time for it. But Giacomo did not do so and Friedrich had waited for over an hour before he had turned onto his side, put out the candle on the nightstand and had tried to find sleep.

He had not had any luck at catching it, though, and the longer he had starred into the empty space of the dimly lit room, the further the arms of sleep seemed to stray away from him. He had known that what he had done, or tried to do, had been anything but a rational action. Friedrich had acted out of anger, out of hatred and disdain. His own actions had scared him as he had been laying on his side of the bed that was too big for him alone. Deep down, he had come to a shocking and breathtaking realization of him having acted in the exact same way his father would have done; he had come up with a cunning and devious plan of accusing an innocent person of conspiracy, humiliating before incarcerating them with the ultimate goal of removing them from his life.

Friedrich had gasped and pulled the covers a bit higher, blinking harder as his eyes had began to feel the tale-telling burn of rising tears. To hell with the frenchman, his remose had intentionally not been directed at him, though the king of Prussia, in his solitude, had felt bad for him, too. _The panic de Lorraine must had felt..._ Friedrich was familiar with it, he would never forget how his heart had sank when he had been arrested just as he had been about to get on the horse that would have carried him to freedom, away from his father and the brutality that Friedrich Wilhelm had treated him with. He had known what it felt like, having to fear for his life. And still,the one that Friedrich had been thinking about when questioning his remorse was no one but Giacomo. His lover had trusted him, had opened up about what had pushed him to the verge of a breakdown and he had single handedly destroyed the construct of trust between them.

He remembered exactly how he had felt when he had been told of Katte‘s arrest, when the certainty had set in that he would never see him again - no, he had no intention of going down that road of memories again as the mere, overwhelmng fear of having to relive it again had brought a shiver down his spine and had made his chin tremble. He had remembered the hate still carried for his father, and if was what Giacomo had been harboring for him, Friedrich would no longer want to be alive.

_And oh, what Henry must be thinking about him..._

Before Friedrich had been given the chance to entangle himself in the catches of the past, the door to the room had slowly been opened, allowing a gap of light to illuminate the darkness. Friedrich had sat up just in time to see Giacomo closing the door behind him, and he had swallowed when his eyes had caught sight of the stone-like mask the younger‘s face had been set into, the mouth that had been pulled into a tight line and the muscles of his jaw that had been clenching and unclenching. Giacomo had been trying to either keep his temper down or stop himself from saying a word, maybe even both, and Friedrich had been able to tell that by simply looking at him for the few seconds he had been able to do so. Unsure whether or not it would be wise to speak to him, the king of Prussia had eventually decided to go for it. “I was worried about you, you did not tell me where you were...” Giacomo, who had put the dog down from his arms and had, rather hastedly, collected his night garments from where the chamber servant had folded it, had disappeared into the en suite bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him without having allowed Friedrich to finish speaking.

The sound of wood hitting wood had been loud enough to make Friedrich flinch and try to swallow around the big lump that had formed in his throat. No, he truly had not been able to blame Giacomo. He only had himself to blame for destroying the happiness that they had lived in. Giacomo had been lingering in the bathroom for far longer than he usually would have done it, and when Friedrich had tried to listen even closer he had not heard any sound coming from within. When Giacomo had came back out again, the older man had since returned into the same position that he had been in prior to the Italian‘s return to their chamber, which still, officially, was just the king‘s chamber. Giacomo‘s repeated sniffles told volumes and Friedrich had squeezed his eyes shut, his vision blurred, as it had not taken him much to realize that the younger must had been crying while locked in the adjoined room.

He had stayed still, trying to move as little as possible, when Giacomo had flipped back the covers on his own side of the bed to lie down underneath them, too. The blond had rolled onto his side, his back turned towards Friedrich in a clear sign of foreclosure. It had been months, months since Friedrich had been forced to find sleep without holding the blond in his arms and he had longed to have it then, in that moment, with an urge that was surpassed by no second thing.

Well, Friedrich really could not have known that Giacomo had longed for him to be held just as badly. Giacomo had been angry, hell, he had been furious and in utter disbelieve at what Friedrich had dared to pull off. And yet the anger had been nothing compared to... how much he had been hurting, the pain of having been betrayed downright immense. There had been only a few times in his life where he had to suffer through a betrayal of his trust and to experience it by the hand of the man he loved was... even worse. Giacomo had wondered if Friedrich really would have gone through with it if it had not been for his and Henry‘s stubbornness, if Friedrich would have kept Philippe incarcerated until a law court would eventually decide about his fate with the king‘s order of declaring him guilty. _“Philippe de Lorraine, you will be placed under arrest for charges of both conspiration and criminal manipulation.”_ Giacomo had tried to keep his tears at bay but... oh god, the moment Friedrich had pointed at Philippe and spoken it out he had known why this had happened.

Yes, what Philippe had done had been anything but right and yet it, in no possible way, had given Friedrich the right to just... “I wish to apologize for what I did, Giacomo. I should not have let my anger control my doing in such a way.” Giacomo had hesitated before he had answered, needing a moment to somewhat regain control of his voice. “That is good to know.” _That is good to know_ had been an answer even worse than punishing silence. The younger man‘s voice had been as emotionless as it could have been and the indifferent that it had been underlined with in regards to his words had made Friedrich swallow hard. Giacomo had wanted to let him know that his trust being betrayed had was not another thing that Friedrich could simply apologize for and kiss it it better, so to say.

 _That is good to know_. He had not known if he had ever heard his younger lover speak to him in such a manner, with a voice raspy and obviously on the verge of cracking that yet had been so emotionless that it had clutched at Friedrich‘s heart with an iron grip. Oh, how his longing to hold Giacomo had grown more urgend when the teary sniffling beside him had increased rather that ebbed down. Friedrich had remembered the last time he and Giacomo had layed beside each other like that, shortly before he had lashed out at his lover and almost lost him for all of eternity. He had no intention of letting their relationship go that route again, no, he had truly feared that it would do so. How he would be able to live on he had not known. Friedrich had sat up once more and had turned with the aspiration to comfort Giacomo, but the younger had stopped him from doing so before he had even put his raised hand onto his shoulder.

“Touch me and I will find another bed to sleep in tonight.”

Friedrich had pulled his hand back as out of reflex and had not managed to keep the low gasp in, his heart threatening to sink all over again as his face had fallen. “Of course, Giacomo, if you wish it.” Oh, Giacomo had, of course, wished for the exact opposite. Deep down he had wanted to feel the securing warmth and weight of Friedrich‘s arm around him and the solid hardness of Friedrich‘s chest pressed against his back... but the image of Philippe, captured and paraded by the guards, his face a stark white as he had tried to hide his tears from the world had been just as present and Giacomo‘s heart had sped up as he had started to view the scene in front of his inner eye again.

When Friedrich had looked at him, from over his shoulder and after ordering the arrest, his eyes had been filled with a shadow - it had not been his Friedrich which had looked at him, it had been a part of his person that Giacomo had not seen prior and which had scared him. Friedrich had been so different, so vindictive.

Giacomo had found sleep after a long while, though a rather restless and unsatisfying one, but sleep nonetheless, while Friedrich had layed starring at a random spot, burried in his thoughts, until the first of the early morning sun had made him shield his tired eyes. He had let out and exhaused sigh as he had sat up, rubbing at the creases on his forehead. Friedrich had made sure to sit up slowly and carefully, hoping that he would not wake the sleeping man beside him. Giacomo had been sleeping turned away from him, still, and Friedrich had haltered just as he had been about to swing his legs down the side of his bed, holding his breath. The younger man had shifted position, having rolled onto his back, and his head had lolled to one side as a silent huff of air passed out from between his slightly parted lips. Friedrich had not been able to help himself, he simply had to stroke the few strands of hair that had fallen onto Giacomo‘s face away from it.

He loved him so much. Friedrich had swallowed and rested the palm of his right hand on Giacomo‘s head, but only gently and for a few short moments before he pulled it away again. A tidal wave of feelings had build itself up inside of him and had threatened to overwhelm and drown him, and Friedrich had stood onto his feet abruptly. Friedrich loved Giacomo with all his heart and all of his being. He had then, as he had stood in front of the window that overlooked the gardens, had swore to both his lover and himself that he would fix his mistakes. How he had not known, but Friedrich had known one thing for certain - there would be no way on this earth that he would allow this dispute to end with him losing his Giacomo.

 _Did they not deserve anything but contentment and happiness after all they had been through?_ Friedrich had snorted humorlessy, it was useless and embarassing to try to put this under fate‘s blame when it had so obviously been his own actions. _“You are an idiot, Friedrich.”_ He had swallowed, dry and audibly, and had driven a tired hand over his even more tired face before he had dressed himself, trying to be as quiet as he could have been and spending a good ten minutes squatted down and petting the puppy to keep it satisfied and from yapping. The dog had been due for a walk outside, Friedrich had been easily able to tell it, and he had been torn back and forth between waking Giacomo or simply taking the dog outside, not sure if his lover would appreciate either of those things. He eventually had decided against waking him up, as at least one of them should be able to get some rest he had thought as he had picked Giacomo‘s dog up and had exited his rooms, not without looking back at the sleeping form on his bed one more time.

Friedrich had not been surprised that the day had turned out to be an incredibly hard one, but he had found himself to be overwhelmed by the constant rising of usually repressed memories from the moment he had sat down behind the desk in his study. Wilhelm clearly had not expected to see him out and about so early, as there had been no real reason for the king of Prussia to be working so early. The valet had also known that Friedrich did not wake earlier than he had to, still as an act of defiance against his long-gone father. As a youth, Friedrich had been forced to wake up at six sharp, sometimes even at five when his father had wished for it. His rather rough awakening had been followed by the first of the day‘s many prayers and a quick breakfast. Friedrich Wilhelm had, as generously as he had been, allowed his oldest son a full seven minutes of eating before his lessons would have started - and it had happened quite often that his face had already been sore by then.

A shudder had gone through Friedrich and he had leaned over until he had been able to rest his elbows on the top of the table and hid his face in his hands, silently cursing himself for not having enough strength to keep those decades old memories surpressed. It had only been self-evidently that they had to join the mountain of troubles and pain Friedrich had already been facing on that day. “Get a grip of yourself, get a god-forsaken grip of yourself Fritz,” he had mumbled under his breath, pressing the balls of his hands hard enough against his eyes to make him see specks of white. Friedrich yet had to tell Giacomo of how his father had mistreated and abused him, the only thing the younger knew was the story of how the reminding scars on his chest came to be.

Oh, but Friedrich had only told him half of the truth, it had not been a lie but he had left the biggest part from the story in his head rather than allowing it to pass his lips. He had not wanted to burden Giacomo with the knowledge of it, he had not forgotten how shocked his lover had look, how brightly both horror and compassion had burned in the brown of his eyes. There had not been a reason to tell him, either, or at least there had not been until then. Friedrich had felt the sudden urge to tell him, him, not just someone and, maybe, Giacomo would then be able to understand why he had acted like he had acted. Or so Friedrich had thought. But he had also known that, no matter what his father had said or done to him and the people he had loved, that he neither could nor wanted to use Friedrich Wilhelm as a constant excuse for his own behaviour.

It had not been an excuse, and it would never be one.

_When he had been sitting on the cold concrete floor of his cell in Küstrin, not even an hour after he had been forced to watch his Hans‘ head being parted from his body with a single blow of a sword, Friedrich had promised himself something. He had held both of his fists clenched and pressed against his lips to stop himself from letting any further noise be heard after his father had come to pay him a visit. Friedrich Wilhelm had came to him right after leaving the scaffold, which the then king of Prussia had ordered to be build in front of Friedrich‘s cell window, with a cold and menacing smirk and his leather belt dangling where he had carried it in his right hand. Friedrich had been heaved from the floor, he had not been able to keep from crying after Katte‘s last confession of his love to him and on his feet at the sickening sound of the blade cutting through flesh and bone, ending the life that had been most precious to the crown prince of Prussia. No, he had not cared whether he would live or not. He had nothing to life for, it had been taken from him within a few seconds._

Friedrich would have sworn on his honor that he had just heard his Katte‘s voice again - _“There is nothing to forgive, I die for you with joy in my heart!”_ Hans‘ last words, his last smile, his last intake of breath... it had all been there, in that moment, when Friedrich had been sitting at his desk, and his breathing had sped up as he had tried to keep himself from tearing up from the sheer force of the haunting memories.

_“You are weeping like a child, not the man you are supposed to be. You just wait until I will give you, my cursed offspring, something to cry about.” The guards that had heaved Friedrich from the floor by rougly grabbing him under an arm each had then forced him his back against his wall, cuffing his hands with a pair of shackles. “Remove his shirt, I will show him a pain that is enough to make my soldiers cry.” One of his father‘s guards had then simply cut the front of the simple blouse he had been forced to dress since his uniform had been taken away from him._

_The sharp steel of the knife had been cold against the skin on his chest and he had flinched before he could have stopped himself, he would not have been surprised if he would have been killed in front of the eyes of his father. Maybe, Friedrich had even wished for the knife to pass through the soft spots of his rips, he had just wanted to be with his Hans... “I would have liked nothing more than for you to follow Lieutenant von Katte‘s example,” Friedrich Wilhelm had said as he had raised his belt after the fabric had been removed from Friedrich‘s upper body. His voice had not been than it had been at any different occasion, he had even talked to Friedrich with such a voice when his son had still been his ‘Fritzchen‘. “But I could not do so without risking my country‘s reputation and since I swore to Ferdinand Albrecht that I would allow my deserter of a son to while a bit longer on God‘s earth.”_

_The first hard lash with the leather belt had followed after, the belt already cutting through the scarred and sensitive skin of young Friedrich‘s chest. Friedrich had been too weakened by the events of the day, November 9, to keep the mask he ususally had always kept when his father had punished him. He had cried out, a sound that had been overplayed by the repeating sound of leather hitting skin. In all that Friedrich had experienced, in all the hits and kicks that had been given to him, there had not been a pain that had come close to what his father had been bringing upon him. He had continued to cry out until his cries had shifted to screams, the air heavy with the sickening smell of his own blood that had been dripping from the cuts on his torso. Friedrich had screamed until his voice had been broken, the hits of Friedrich Wilhelm‘s belt then earning nothing but a hoarse whimper. The pain had been so intense that it had made his vision go blurry and just when he had longed for unconsciousness rather than feared it, his father had stopped the assault._

_It could have been days, it could have been hours or it could have been minutes. Friedrich had lost all sense of time when his father had lowered the belt for the last time._

_The older Prussian had simply turned around and walked away, giving a hand signal to the guards to unbing Friedrich. They had obeyed, of course they had, and since their king had left the cell they had treated Friedrich with much less brutality and hardness than they had done before. The guards had left, too, once Friedrich had been hunched against the wall. The fire on his upper body, and especially his chest, had been so great that it had almost the young crown prince‘s breath away, each rise as his lungs drew in another intake of breath sending another wave of pain through his body._

_So when Friedrich had been sitting on the cold concrete floor of his cell, holding his clenched fists pressed against his lips, he had promised that he would rather end his own life before he would allow himself to follow his father‘s lead. He knew that his father had hated him because he was so different from what Friedrich Wilhelm had wanted to have in an heir to his throne. Friedrich had always been drawn towards the beautiful sides of life, he had alway loved music, art and poetry, he had always preferred the flute over a rifle and a good book over a military exercise. He had done so even as a young child, which had been why his father had tortured him with such abuse and pure hate. Friedrich had been everything that Friedrich Wilhelm had dreaded to have in a son._

He had promised to be a better man, and it had almost taken Friedrich‘s breath when he realized that he had failed yet again. And as if it had not been bad enough, he had also betrayed the man he loved at the same time. Friedrich had not known how long he had lingered burried in his thoughts and in the same leaned-over position when a knock had disturbed him. “Enter.” He, thankfully, yet had to shed the first of the tears that had builded up inside of hin, trying to explaine the tale-telling wetness on his face would have been an uncomfortable.

“Have you seen my -” Giacomo. The younger man had not looked directly at Friedrich as he had walked though the study to pick up the dog from where it had been sleeping on the canapé. The same uncomfortable air that had been hovering over their heads on the past evening had still been standing between them and Friedrich‘s heart had been burdened by it at least twice as much. “I -” He had cleared his throat, swallowing afterwards. “He would have made an accident in our room if I had not taken him outside.” Giacomo had seemed to hasitate, his lips being pulled in between his teeth, and Friedrich had been able to see that his chin had been trembling slightly. Then, oh how his heart had jumped, Giacomo had looked at him. He had looked at him for not more than a second but the younger‘s eyes had been so much softer than they had been the day before. “Thank you, Friedrich.” It had been all Giacomo had said before he had turned and walked back out. “You are most welcome, Giacomo.” Friedrich had watched him go, hope burning in the pit of his stomach. _Maybe Giacomo would understand? Maybe he had not pushed him away just yet and maybe he... would be allowed to try and regain the trust that he had so foolishly lost._

Giacomo had tried to be angry, had tried to stay mad and had tried to convince himself that Friedrich had not been truly remorsefull. How foolish it had been, as he, deep down, had known that Friedrich had showed signs of sincere remorse down at the cell, and of course Giacomo had not missed how big his eyes had been as they had watched him collect his night garnments.When he had awoken that morning he had been alone and his mood had instantly sobered when he found the bed empty and the side that Friedrich had been sleeping on cold and abandoned. Friedrich‘s pillow had still carried his scent and it had been of such a big comfort for Giacomo that he had pressed his face into it after he had pulled it against his chest, breathing in deeply. He had regretted the way he had been acting towards Friedrich, he had been able to downright feel just how hurt the other had been.

It had not been fair - yes, he had been angry and disappointed, hell, Giacomo had still been disappointed but he should have given Friedrich a chance to explain himself. He had loved Friedrich and he had not wanted to lose him at all costs. The wheel of Giacomo‘s thoughts had stopped, however, when he had noticed that the room had been too quiet. His head had shot up and his heart had sank when he had noticed just what had been missing - his dog. He had only had ‘Prince‘ or a day but he had already been able to tell that the dog was anything but quiet, so the silence was more than just a bit worrysome. Giacomo had searched the room twice, had knelt down to check underneath the bed and chest of drawers and had even continued his search in the en suite bathroom, though the dog could not have gotten into it. He had dressed himself but then had stood in front of the next big question; whether he should go straight to Friedich or Philippe, and if he would have been honest with himself he would have preferred the company of his friend.

Giacomo had wanted to see how Philippe was doing, his friend had been quite shaken and pale around the nose when they had been sitting in the royal rooms Henry, and Philippe, had been staying in, silence heavy as they had drank not more than one pitcher of wine. Seeing Philippe would have been easier than being in the ame room as Friedrich, and yet Giacomo had gone en route to the king‘s study, greeting the few courtiers and ministers he had passed on the way.

And then, when he had been carrying his dog, he had been glad that he had done so. _“You are most welcome, Giacomo.”_ Oh, how Giacomo had longed to close the chasm between them and kiss him, but Friedrich had looked rather exhaused with dark bags under his eyes and... different, more calm in a way that had confused him. He had wanted have a talk with him, to know why, and to be ensured that he would not have to sleep like that again. It had taken him so long to close his eyes when Friedrich had not been there to hold him. Giacomo had wanted to know why, it had been a big question mark on his mind. He had wanted for Friedrich to tell him why he had come up with a plan to arrest Philippe, hoping that it had not been out of pure hatred for the frenchman. Friedrich holding such a strong hate against his closest friend had quite possible been the worst thing that Giacomo could have imagined.

The short encounter with Giacomo had actually been what had carried Friedrich through the rest of the day. He had managed to get at least some work done, actually more than he had expected, had sat through a handfull of audiences and had attended a minister meeting. Philippe de Lorraine‘s arrest had caused tumult, of course it had, but his release had happened even before the rumors had the time to spread through the walls of Sanssouci - which meant that the interest in it had decreased just as fast as it had increased, especially after Friedrich had published a note stating that it had been a case of wrongly-done investigation. Investigation, ha, it had been Friedrich‘s only option as he really could not have stated that he had came up with it as an act of personal revenge. It would have caused him many valuable political relations, especially with France, but the only loss he would have grieved after would have been that of his lover. He had been unsure if he should reveal his real motivation behind it to Giacomo, fearing that it would the younger could never forgive him for using him and his words in such a manner.

The flute concert had been the only thing that had to hold, but Friedrich had called if off as his music deserved nothing but his unshared attention and he had known that he would not be able to do so on that evening. He had been as tired as he had only been a couple of times in his life and he needed, no, longed to talk to Giacomo, to get their relationship back to normal. Back to happiness, to harmony. Friedrich had stretched before he had motioned to stand from his chair - was it to his imagination or had the skin over his chest had been tighter than it usually was? He had stood, and a gasp had escaped him when a hot flash of pain went through him as said skin stretched.

Friedrich gasped again as he pushed two fingers of his right hands between an opening of two of his blouse‘s buttons to feel the scarred skin, gaze casted downwards when he simply stood there for a few minutes doing nothing but trying to ease the pain out. He would not longer wait, he would go, find and talk to Giacomo right then. Giacomo, who was the most important part of his life and it would have been funny, really, if it had not been so true, just how much his life depended on the younger.

Giacomo was his gearwheel and Friedrich was useless without him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Giacomo was reading, something he had terribly neglected in the last couple of weeks. The pages of the old book were rough and heavy between his fingers, not only from the quality of the paper but from the century that it had seen. It, too, had been a gift from Friedrich on his birthday that had not turned out to be his best birthday after all. He sighed wearily, he had tried to concentrate on the written words but had started to realize that it was in vein when he read the same page for the third time and still had not remembered any of the information it contained, despite it dealing with paintings from centuries ago - his favorite topic.

He lowered the book, having lost the thread once more and for good this time, mindlessly toying with a corner of the page he had been holding. It was his pride that had hindered him from simply going to Friedrich and start a converation, that had told him to wait for his lover to do so; if Friedrich wanted to talk he could very well be the one to make the first step and come to him. Giacomo sighed again and rolled his his eyes before he closed them. If Friedrich would show no intent to do so he would eventually need to do it, did he not? It could no longer stand between them, pushing them apart with each hour that went by with it unresolved. He shook his head, the whole situation annoyed him to no end. Had they been predestined to run into trouble after trouble?

“Monsieur Casanova?” His eyes snapped open and he almost whirled around, being given a shock by the voice coming from behind him. Where Giacomo had chosen to sit and read, on the terrance, he would have expected the king to be the only one to surprise him. But it was not Friedrich, no. It was Wilhelm, his valet, and Giacomo‘s pulse slowly went back down as he asked, “What can I help you with, Sire.”

Wilhelm merely looked at him for a short moment before he cleared his throat and straightened his posture, Giacomo could not have known that his hands were clenching where he held them behind his back. “Did the king tell you?” The Italian‘s eyebrows pulled together and he turned around a bit more, “I yet need to have the luck to be able to speak with him today so no, he did not tell me... whatever you expect him to tell me. What is it, if I may ask?” “The king‘s father.” “His father,” Giacomo repeated in disbelieve, his eyebrows then rising, “why would he tell me about his father and why do you care about whether or not he had done so?” “You will understand, Monsieur Casanova, and you will be tempted to find out more. I merely wanted to offer my knowledge to you but since the king has not told you yet, there is no reason for me to disturb you any longer. Good evening, Monsieur.” “Good evening to you too, Sire,” he answered after a few moments of silence.

Well, that certainly had not helped to stop the gearwheels in Giacomo‘s mind from turning. Why had Friedrich‘s valet come to ask him in the first place? In what possible scenario could that be of any importance to their current situation? In what? For what had to be the hundredth time that day, Giacomo sighed, loudly this time, and closed the book after making sure to memorise the page he had been on

Giacomo sat on the bench for a few more minutes to take in the finale of the sunset, only standing up when the most beautiful phase had passed. Sunsets always made him feel... sentimental in a way, they showed him how irrelevant he was to the world. The sun had risen before he had been born and it would continue to rise long after he would eventually have passed on. He turned his back towards the scene and walked back inside, it would soon be too dark to read, or write, out in the open anyway. Holding the book to his chest, a gesture of habit that he had someday picked up, Giacomo slendered the short way to the part of the palace‘s wing that contained the royal rooms and just as he took the first few steps of the stairway he saw Friedrich, standing in the corridor and talking to a nobleman. Oh, how his heart had sped up though why he did not know. Seeing Friedrich was nothing unusal, especially after the first few days of his return had passed by.

So why was he suddenly so nervous and why could he suddenly feel his heart beat so much faster and stronger? Was it because Friedrich had seen him, too, and was then looking at him rather than his partner of conversation? Giacomo had stopped in his tracks without really realizing it, one hand on the rail while the other was clutching at the book. Should he turn and walk away again or should he simply walk past him, and if so, with or without a greeting? “ _Stai pensando troppo_ ,” he mumbled under his breath and to himself and set into motion again, Friedrich‘s eyes had still been on him and the longer he would continue to stand on the stairway the more awkward it would become. Giacomo took the last couple of stairs with a fast swiftness and held his chin a bit more higher than usual as he closed in on the king of Prussia and the man he was conversing with.

“Good evening, Your Majesty. Sire,” he nodded once and would have gone straight past them if it had not been for Friedrich‘s hand that had caught a hold of his upper arm. “Where are you going?” “Somewhere.” “I would prefer for you to wait until I finished my conversation, Giacomo, and we could go somewhere together.” Heat rose into Giacomo‘s cheeks at the use of his first name only, there was no use of denying how meaningful of a gesture it was for the king to adress him in such a way in front of a witness. Even if he had been confirmed as a paramour. “Will you wait for me?” “Of course I will,” Giacomo whispered and when Friedrich released his arm, smiled at him onc more and turned back to pick up where he had left off with the nobleman, the Italian shifted his weight from foot to foot and chose not to look at them.

He was not embarassed, he would never be embarassed of Friedrich‘s open affection towards him, he simply was not used to receive it, still, as his past romantic relations had been behind closed doors unexceptionally. Friedrich did not talk for more than a minute maybe, as far as Giacomo had been able to tell, before he sudddenly stood in front of Giacomo, so close that the tips of his shoes were almost touching. “I wish to talk to you, Giacomo,” the king‘s voice was low, barely above a whisper, and he toyed with a blond curl between his fingers. Friedrich had been unable to resist touching it, but he only did so for a short moment, fearing that his lover might not want him to do so. “It is most urgend.” “Indeed it is,” Giacomo answered with a voice that was just as low as Friedrich‘s, and he swallowed as he forced his eyes to stay away from the older man‘s face as they began to walk, side by side. It pained him, the hesitation and retience that hovered so boldly between them, and of course it had not disolved since the prior day‘s evening. Silence could not wipe it out, it would only make it grow worse.

Friedrich may have held his hand so that his fingers would brush against Giacomo‘s wrist and the back of his hand, hoping to be able to lay the path of forgiveness through him doing so, but his hoped were disappointed when Giacomo showed no intention of being eager or willing to take his hand. Friedrich realized it with a hard swallow and tension curled up in the pit of his stomach. What if he would never be allowed to feel that soft hand in his? What if this would be the last time that he would be close to his Giacomo? What if he would lose him over his, over one simple mistake after all they had been through? Friedrich‘s mind was practically somersaulting by building more and more possible outcomes of the conversation they would be holding, ranging from arousal to devastation. Oh, what if he would lose him? No, Friedrich banished that thought from his mind with a strict vehemence, _it was no option_.

It did not take them long to reach their destination, it was but a short walk really, and Friedrich held the door open for Giacomo to enter first before he himself walked in and closed the door behind him. Silence. Neither of them spoke as they stood a few meters apart from each other, the ticking of the grandfather clock the only audible sound to fill the air of the spacious room. Friedrich had to collect his courage to speak, anxious of what the conversation he would start would result in. “How... was your day?” It sounded stupid, even to him, and Giacomo‘s reaction only affirmed it. The younger man laughed humorlessly and shook his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest after having put the book down on a chest of drawers. No answer.

Friedrich opened his mouth, closed it when he found himself to be at a loss for words and opened it again, though he did not bring anything out. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, clasping his hands in his lap. “Would you sit with me, Giacomo?”

Giacomo would have liked to reciprocate something along the lines of “I want to talk and not sit and hold hands”, but he knew that he, no matter how hard he would try, would not be able to keep the anger boiling, especially then that Friedrich was looking at him with silently pleading eyes. He sighed, uncrossed his arms and walked over to the other, sitting down where Friedrich had patted the empty space on the mattress beside him. They sat next to each other, and Giacomo‘s mood got even less pugnacious when he watched how Friedrich squeezed his hands together so hard that it made his fingers turn a shade too pale. “Friedrich...” He threw everything overboard, all the possible arguements and accusations he had come up in his anger, by laying one hand on top of he older man‘s to stop his gesture of distress. Somehow, he no longer doubted that what Friedrich would speak next would be anything but the truth.

“I know that I must have said it a hundred times to you already, Giacomo, trust me when I say that I do know that. But there simply is no other thing that I mean as much as I am sorry. I am so, so sorry.” Giacomo nodded even though Friedrich was not looking at him, and he squeezed his hands as he answered. “I do understand that you are sorry...” Friedrich looked up and at him when he did not finish his sentence, and Giacomo was more than a bit taken aback when he could watch the tears rising in his eyes.

“But?” The younger let his eyes roam over the older man‘s face, unintentionally searching for something he could not put his finger upon. Friedrich had spoken a few mere words and yet Giacomo sensed that this was an incredibly vulnerable moment, one that would decide about their future in an inexplicable way. “I just cannot understand why you did what you did yesterday, Friedrich. I need to understand.”

“I feared that you would be taken away from me.” This time, it was Giacomo that could not bear to keep his eyes on the other. He looked away, swallowing hard. “So you... did not believe me when I told you that Philippe and I are nothing but friends, that my heart belongs to no one but you alone?” He wanted to pull his hand away but Friedrich quickly enclosed it between his. “No, no it is not what I meant, Giacomo. I believed you, I still do, I never doubted your words.” “Then why,” Giacomo whispered, his voice somewhat unsteady as he felt ready to tear up himself. He usually was not build so close to the waters, but he could not help it, especially not with Friedrich. “I thought that... I thought that you would see how much better he would be. I wanted him gone so that I would not have to lose you.” “Friedrich -” “I know that it was a mindless idea, I cannot believe that I actually went through with it.”

Giacomo could not believe what he had just heard - _“I thought that... I thought that you would see how much better he would be.”_ Friedrich, scared? Of losing him to Philippe? “There could never be someone better than you, Friedrich. No one could come close to what we have... Or am I mistaken?” “Of course you are not mistaken, oh Giacomo, be assured that I love you like no other,” Friedrich tilted his head, hoping that he could make his lover‘s eyes move up at him through it. “Then why are you so scared?” It took him a few moments to answer, his mind working as it tried to find the right words to say, to find the right way to go reach into the topic without overwhelming the younger man. No, forget words.

Friedrich let go ot Giacomo‘s hand, earning a gasp, but only to unbutton the front of his blouse and open it, pushing it aside so that the naked skin of his torso would be visible. “What are you doing?” He took one of the younger man‘s hand and placed it, palm first, right in the center of his chest. “I may not have told you the whole truth about the story behind those scars, mein Liebling.” Giacomo looked up to meet Friedrich‘s eyes before he averted them away towards the scarred skin with an unreadable expression on his face. The older man shuddered when his lover‘s gentle fingertips caressed his skin, causing goosebumps to break out all over his body. “You said that it was your father who whipped you with his belt as a punishment for playing the flute, did you not?” Friedrich blinked slowly, “Yes, it did say that and it was no lie of mine. My father whipped me at more than one occasion, actually more often than I had been able to count.” Giacomo did not answer, not because he did not want to but because at the loss for words as he was and Friedrich then, when no answer came, guided Giacomo‘s hand until it came to rest over the most raised of the cross-cross patterned silver scars.

“While my father did whip me, he only did so on my back and behind. Except for one time, which is what left me to live with these.” Giacomo, again, did not answer but Friedrich also had not expected him to do so. “He came into the cell that I was being kept in at Küstrin, shortly after I had been forced to... watch Katte being executed.” “Oh my God, oh Friedrich...” “He whipped me with his belt until I was bleeding and I, afterwards, had to sign a verdict which stated that I would only be allowed to keep my head on my shoulders if I would do everything he expected me to do, including marrying someone which he knew I could never love. I never learned how to deal with a conflict with anything but violence and incarceration as an answer and while I do know that I cannot excuse my behaviour through it, I have to do so every now and then. I am sorry for what I did, Giacomo. I hope that you can forgive me for betraying your trust.”

Giaomo‘s mouth had been hanging open slightly as he had listened to Friedrich‘s confession. “Why did you not tell me sooner? About the scars and... about your father?” “I do not only carry physical scars from him and you should not have to be burdened with it. He is of no importance.” “Everyone carries their own scars, Friedrich, and talking about them can help.” They looked at each other, their eyes filled, and when the small pale scar on Giacomo‘s right cheek was touched by the flicker of a candle, Friedrich broke. He just broke into tears, his shoulders sacking as he sat beside his lover, sobbing one heart-felt apology after another. Forgive and forget? Well, Giacomo could not forget but he would most definitely forgive Friedrich‘s mistake. How could he not, he had been able to hear and could see just how sorry the other was and Giacomo, somehow, even stopped seeing it as a betrayal of his trust.

He understood. “Look at me, Friedrich.” The older man obeyed and wiped at his nose with the back of his hand before he raised his head, and Giacomo cupped his face once he did so. His cheeks were wet with the trails of the tears that he had shed and Giacomo looked at him for a few short moments before he leaned over and gently captured his lips. There were hands on his face, too, as Friedrich pulled away to let his lips roam over the bridge of Giacomo‘s nose until they reached his forehead. “Will you forgive me, my love?” Giacomo, once more, did not answer, all his focus concentrated on the one hand that had left his face to run lose circles on the fabric of his trousers. “Please,” Friedrich whispered and kissed his forehead, “please, Giacomo. I need to hear you say it,” squeezing the muscle of Giacomo‘s thigh.

The blond laughed and tilted his head back so Friedrich‘s lips were close to his own again. “I forgive you, of course I do. I love you too much to not do so.” Giacomo was kissed again, though much rougher and possessively this time, and when Friedrich released a growl of “my Sanssouci” that was part a moan, the fabric of Giacomo‘s trouser slowly but steadily began to grow too tight. He could not help but laugh at the thought, _no matter what they did, they would always end up like this_. Not that he did not like it, on the contrary. “What is there to laugh, Liebling?” Giacomo kissed a corner of Friedrich‘s mouth, “Nothing,” he whispered, kissing the other corner, “nothing at all.”

He kissed along Friedrich‘s jawline with small and quick pecks, and began to squeeze his lover through his britches when he gently sucked and nibbled at a spot on his lover‘s neck. Usually preferring to be on the receiving end of such attention, Giacomo longed to be the one providing it on that evening. Friedrich deserved it, oh how much he deserved it. The king of Prussia closed his eyes and tipped his head back to give the younger more space to work with, biting at the inside of his lip and letting out needy moans and whimpers when Giacomo synched his kissing and sucking at his neck with the squeezing and rubbing at his cock. “Liebling -” “Sh,” Giacomo finished sucking another bruise low on Friedrich‘s neck, making his comment become blurred with another low-throated moan before he stood only to skin to his knees in front of his lover, who had held his legs spread apart since the first touch of Giacomo‘s hand on his crotch.

Friedrich was already breathing heavily, his partly revealed chest heaving, and Giacomo‘s own arousal skyrocketed when Friedrich‘s pupils blew wide as he undid the bow that held his hair in a pony tail and threw it over his shoulder. Giacomo moved forwards until he was positioned further in between the other‘s thighs, leaning over to kiss the bulge that had build in Friedrich‘s britches. “My Sanssouci,” Friedrich‘s voice hitched when Giacomo‘s lips lingered on the fabric and he already drove one hand into his lover‘s hair, testing his grip as Giacomo did a fast job with the fly of his britches and pulled them, together with his undergarnments, down as Friedrich lifted his hips to comply. They, too, landed on the floor behind the kneeling man.

Giacomo took a hold of the cock‘s base as soon as he had been able to get his hand on it, tugging a few times to get it to a full stand. He fondled his balls in the other hand, licking a long strip along its underside, knowing very well just what Friedrich liked. “Friedrich?”, he asked, kissing the pink head and teasing it‘s slit with the tip of his tongue, eyes still firmly casted upwards. “Yes, Liebling.” “Could we try something new?” Friedrich‘s hand moved from the back of Giacomo‘s head over to his cheek, thumb gently caressing the soft skin and rubbing at his lower lip. “Whatever you wish, my Sanssouci.” “I would like you to... fuck my mouth.” His lower stomach clenched and pulled together and he would have been ready to come right there and then.

“Giacomo...”

“But,” Giacomo kissed the head of Friedrich‘s cock again and rubbed the tip of his nose against it, “you shall only be allowed to do so if you promise to apologize to Philippe afterwards.”

Friedrich growled, jealousy and possessiveness shooting through veins and he quickly bend down to kiss Giacomo again, pulling the blond a bit higher by the grip he had on the nape of his neck. “You would have made a pretty acceptable politician, but say his name again while your hand is on my cock and I promise that I will not let you come for a week.” “My, you are bossy, Your Majesty,” Giacomo purred, teasing with a smirk that only grew when his neck was grabbed a bit tighter. “Trust me, I will show you how bossy I am if you do not put your gorgeous lips around my co - _oh god_.” Friedrich would have liked to give in to the urge of allowing his eyes to close when Giacomo did as he had been told to do, enclosing the head of his cock with his lips before taking more of it into the overwhelming warmth of his mouth. He knew that their libido was... higher than those of other lovers, but Friedrich simply could not keep his hands, and cock, away from Giacomo and the younger enjoyed it as much as he did.

His hand moved from the nape of the younger man‘s neck back into his hair, petting it and forgetting, in the sheer heat of the moment, what his lover had asked him to do. He did, however, remember it when Giacomo let out a needy whimper from around his cock and snapped his hips upwards and pushed the younger man‘s head down at the same time, his breath hitching in his throat when the head of his cock brushed against the back of Giacomo‘s throat. Giacomo, of course, gagged and spluttered and the rushing in Friedrich‘s ears intensified when the brown of the kneeling man‘s eyes glittered with wetness. “Was that good or too hard, my Sanssouci?” Friedrich eased his hold to allow Giacomo to pull off for just enough time to speak, “You cannot be too rough with me, Friedrich, and you know it.”

The younger man‘s voice was thick and rasoy and Friedrich felt another surge of arousal shooting through him at the strings of saliva that connected his cock with Giacomo‘s lips. God, he loved him more than... anything, really. “My Sanssouci, my beautiful Sanssouci,” he brought out in between the thrusts of his hips and the gagging sound that accompanied it, feeling himself getting close sooner than he would have liked to. “W-watch out, pull off, I am close -” Instead of pulling off, however, Giacomo took him onto one last trip down the depths of his throat and Friedrich released himself down the hot tunnel. Giacomo kept sucking and licking until the rushing in Friedrich‘s ears had passed and his cock began to soften, letting it slip from is mouth. “Giacomo, Liebling, you are... incredible,” Friedrich said, trying to catch his breath and beaming down at his lover, who was still kneeling between his legs and wincing as he tried to ease out the ache in his jaw.

“Come up here so I can finish you too, my Sanssouci.” “I...” “You did it _again_?” Friedrich threw his head back as he laughed, laughing even harder at the dark look that he received. “I do not see what there is to laugh about.” “I apologize, my Sanssouci,” Friedrich sobered, but did not lose his wide grin as he stood and helped his lover onto his feet, too. He wriggled an eyebrow when he took in the dark spot that had formed in the front of Giacomo‘s trousers, pulling the younger man‘s shirt off over his head and aiding him at getting out of his trousers. “Well, and I apologize that you fucking my mouth turns me on as much as it does.”

Friedrich groaned something incomprehensible. Damn him, he though as life already returned to his nethers. He kissed Giacomo, slow and sensual, their tongues swirling around each other and Friedrich ran both of his hands down the slight curve of Giacomo‘s back until he could grope at his ass. The older man squeezed and pulled, rubbed and smacked, making his lover whine and push back into the touch. “I would like us to try something new, too, mein Liebling.” “I do not care, Friedrich,” the younger man whined and gasped when his ass was squeezed again, “I just need to feel you,” he accompanied his plea with a nibble on Friedrich‘s ear lobe. “That is what I like to hear. Get dressed, then.” “ _What?_ ”

The king of Prussia had moved away and Giacomo only barely managed to catch the silken morning robe that was thrown at him. Giacomo looked at Friedrich in disbelief. “You are not serious, are you.” “Oh but I am my Sanssouci, I thought you wanted me to go and apologize to Monsieur de Lorraine in person?” The younger spluttered, “But - but not now!”, making Friedrich chuckle and kiss him once more, “I will go and apologize to him and you, my Sanssouci, will wait for me in your old rooms.” Giacomo blushed when he understood what his lover was getting at. “My rooms? Those next to Philippe‘s or -” Friedrich kissed him again, whispering, “Yes, your rooms, Liebling.” Oh god, Friedrich wanted to... take him in the hearing range of both Philippe and Henry. Something new indeed.

The part of the castle they were living in was, thankfully, almost deserted during the evening hours, with the manservants having long finished their work, and Giacomo managed to slip out ot one and into the other room without being seen. While he paced around waiting, both his pulse and his mind were running now that he had the time to think about what Friedrich had told him. _“He came into the cell that I was being kept in at Küstrin, shortly after I had been forced to... watch Katte being executed.” “He whipped me with his belt until I was bleeding and I, afterwards, had to sign a verdict which stated that I would only be allowed to keep my head on my shoulders if I would do everything he expected me to do, including marrying someone which he knew I could never love.”_ What kind of father had Friedrich Wilhelm been to do something so... utterly terrible and heartless? Who in their right mind would execute someone‘s lover and force them to watch? So maybe it was the reason that the valet had come to him - because he wanted to know more, he had to know more of the monster that Friedrich‘s father seemed to have been.

Giacomo shuddered, no, those were not thoughts one was to have while battling with an errection. How long had he been waiting for Friedrich? For an eternity, surely. He could not wait any longer. Giacomo sat down on the bed, opened the silken robe and slowly started to work on his own cock, careful as to not push himself over the edge. He had not wanted to come, he simply needed to be touched.

“Oh - _oh God_ , oh -” “Do not tell me that you could not have waited for a few minutes.” Giacomo almost jumped out of his skin when the door was closed, he had not even heard it being opened, and Friedrich suddenly stood in front of him. The younger gasped when his hand was roughly grabbed and pulled away from his cock, “And I do not believe that I gave you the permission to touch yourself, did I.” He whimpered and tried to free his wrist, though without any real effort. Friedrich tsked, pulled him to his feet and tugged off his robe. “Always so eager and so impatient.” “Friedrich...” Other than Giacomo, the king of Prussia had put his britches, blouse and waistcoat back on. Of course he had, there had been no way of him going to see the frenchman without anything less, which meant than he was fully dressed while his lover was completely undressed.

Giacomo had never been anything close to self-conscious as he had nothing to be ashamed off, and yet he felt incredibly exposed as Friedrich took a couple of steps back to get a look at him, the king‘s eyes roaming across his body. “How gorgeous you are, my Sanssouci,” Friedrich whispered and came closer again, taking one of Giacomo‘s hand into his and gently kissed it while the fingertips of the other ran southwards and over the knobs of Giacomo‘s spine. “What a miracle it is that only I get to see and touch you like this.” He quickly took hold of the younger man‘s waist, turned him around and pushed him forwards until Giacomo landed, with a laugh and a squeal, bend at his hips and over the edge of the bed. The blond tried to raise onto his elbows but the hand that had come to rest in between his shoulder blades pushed him back down. “Well, if this is supposed to be something new I need to disappoint you -” Giacomo‘s cheeky remark was cut off by the couple of hard-handed spanks that Friedrich layed down in quick succession and all on the same spot, thus making a red print of his hand bloom in the middle of his lover‘s ass.

The younger man gasped and bucked, but moaned when Friedrich‘s hand stilled and rubbed at the tingling skin. “If they heard it, mein Liebling, I am not sorry. You know that I do not appreciate your remarks at all times.” Giacomo tried to force down his grin as he turned his head to look at the other, “You _do_ appreciate them, Friedrich.” Friedrich snorted and smacked him again, making him gasp, before he moved away to look at him from a distance again as if appreciating his handiwork. “Maybe I do, but that does not mean that I can be lenient with you, can it.” A hot rush shot through Giacomo at his lover‘s words, his cock filling even more, and he may have thrusted his hips forwards to rub it against the bedspread. “You - have been lenient with me today.” “Brat,” came the snorted reply.

“So, what is the new thing you would like to try?” He watched with confusion as Friedrich walked through the room and towards the door. Heat rose into his face when it was opened and left to stand ajar, and his heart sped up as Friedrich walked back towards him without closing it.

Friedrich did not undress as he positioned himself behind his lover, the bed was high enough for him to be able to stay in a comfortable posure as he put his hands on either side of Giacomo and bend down to kiss down the younger‘s back. Giacomo shuddered, eyes locked on the door but fluttering close when Friedrich squatted down behind him to squeeze one of his ass cheeks and kiss the other. “Friedrich...” A soothing hand appeared on the small of his back, holding him down both physically and mentally. “Did you apologize to Philippe?” The grin that broke out on Giacomo‘s face at the choked sound which came from Friedrich was all bright, teeth, and the blond gasped again when one of his cheeks was squeezed again, harder this time. “What have I told you about using his name when -” “Yes, but my hand is not on your cock now, is it?” “You are such a _brat_ ,” Friedrich accentuated it with another couple of hard smacks, “it is unbelievable.”

When an oil-coated finger suddenly pushed through the tight ring of his muscle Giacomo moaned again, loudly, and quickly clasped his own hand over his mouth to stop himself from doing so again. The door was _open_. “Why did you -” “Open the door?” Friedrich finished his question just as he pushed in the second finger, his voice underlined with a sing-sang voice that sounded as carefree as it could have been while his lover‘s moan was muffled. “Oh it is so that everyone who walks in can see you spread out and around my cock, my Sanssouci.” He scissored his fingers, his own breathing heavy, as he drank in the way his lover bucked and pushed back, eager to get more into him. Friedrich took his time, pressing down on Giacomo‘s prostate every now and then. “You know that he will hear you,” he purred against one of his lover‘s cheeks, kissing the soft flesh after biting down on it too light for it to hurt.

“Friedrich...” “What would you like me to do, my Sanssouci? I want to hear you ask for it.” Giacomo whined, he was so incredibly turned on by the all possessive and dominant act that Friedrich was putting on that he very well would have liked to come on the digits. “Fuck me, please.” “Hm,” the older man hummed as if not satisfied with what he heard and he pulled his fingers with an obscene and wet sound, rising from his squatting position. Giacomo morned the loss, his muscle clenching around the empty space. “Please, _please_ fuck me. _Please_ ,” he whined and arched his back a bit more. He almost sobbed in relief when he finally felt the lubed head of Friedrich‘s cock nodging at his opening. “I shall grant you your wish, then,” Friedrich whispered, leaning down to press a hast kiss onto Giacomo‘s shoulder as he pushed in, gradually and without hurry even though he would have liked to simply snap his hips forward and start fucking. Once he was fully seated, he ran his free hand up and down the younger man‘s back to help him relax and get used to the feeling of penetration - he still did so everytime, even if Giacomo had most likely been used to his cock some time ago.

“My Sanssouci,” Friedrich repeated over and over again when he began to move his hips, almost bottoming out completely before he pushed back in with one long and hart thrust, having no troubles with finding Giacomo‘s spot at the first try. The blond made a choking sound, and Friedrich took it and the arch of his back as his good-to-go sign, falling into a rhythm that was fast-paced and rough, just as they both liked it. The air in the room seemed to hum, thick from the smell of arousal and the sound of naked skin hitting naked skin as Friedrich fucked his lover in earnest. Giacomo could not hold himself up for much longer; he practically melted down onto the mattress, hands clutching at the bedspread and feet scrambling against the wooden floor. He babbled incoherent words which Friedrich doubted were in a language that he spoke, and Friedrich‘s heart was so full at that moment when he drank in the blissful look on the younger man‘s face, his slightly parted lips and closed eyes, the tongue that dashed out every now and then to wet his lips.

Friedrich used his free hand, the one he was not leaning all his weight on, to take a hold of Giacomo‘s hair. He knew how much his lover liked it, and he had not been mistaken. The blond‘s eyes flew open and he tilted his head back for Friedrich to be able to kiss him. It was all teeth, wet and claiming. He did not really wish for it, as it would do Giacomo no good, but he somehow would have liked for Philippe or any other to walk into the room at that exact moment so they could see how Friedrich claimed him. “You are mine,” he growled, dragging Giacomo‘s lip through his teeth before he pushed his tongue into his mouth again, swallowing the whimper that followed as an agreement to his words. “I am close,” Giacomo whispered but when he motioned to let his own hand wander to his cock, Friedrich stilled in his movement. “You will come on my cock or you will not come at all, your choice Liebling.” Giacomo‘s hand recoiled in a second.

His thrusts were getting more and more erradic, it was no surprise that he was getting close sooner rather than later. The thrill of taking the blond like this was pulse-spinking, the small moans and whimpers where to his ears what the most beautiful piece of music could not be and the feeling of Giacomo around him was... absolutely overwhelming, even after all those times. “I love you, my Sanssouci, I love you.” “Oh - oh, _oh_ _ti amo così tanto_.” Friedrich had to smile, it was simply too adorable when Giacomo‘s brain was so high on the bliss of a nearing orgasm that he did not notice him switching between the languages.

Giacomo came with a cry of “Friedrich!” and Friedrich followed him soon after, pushing in to the hilt as he finished inside of his lover. Both men were panting heavily, and Friedrich‘s legs were shaking as he shifted onto them to slowly pull his softening cock out. “God...” Giacomo groaned with a laugh, not moving from his bend-over position. “They must be deaf it they have not heard us.” Friedrich plopped down beside him and ran a hand over his back, “I send them down to the salon for half an hour, Liebling.” “You did?” Giacomo asked with a small voice and when he turned his face to look at Friedrich, the other captured his lips before he whispered back. “Of course I did, my Sanssouci, it would be too great of a risk. Though I have to admit that I would not be aversed to everyone seeing me claming you.”

Friedrich cupped Giacomo‘s face, simply looking at. How utterly lucky he was. “They already know that I am yours, Friedrich.” He snorted, “They do, yes. But they yet have to see you _claimed_.” The younger blushed to an exquisite shade and the warmth surrounding Friedrich‘s chest grew even more as they simply lingered there, his hand gently carding through Giacomo‘s hair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Friedrich had leaned closer towards Giacomo to hold a cream covered strawberry to his younger lover‘s lips, watching with fascination and a surpressed moan when Giacomo bit down onto it, keeping his eyes firmly locked with the other and closing his lips around Friedrich‘s thumb after having finished the fruit. “My god, what you are doing to me is unbelievable,” the king of Prussia groaned after Giacomo dislodged his lips from his digit with an obscene _plop_ and leaned back into his own chair with a knowing grin and an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, I doubt that.” The older man snorted and tried to cup his groin as inconspicuously as he could to stop the blood from rushing into it. He was not embarassed that his lover aroused him as easily as he did and neither was he embarassed to admit, to himself only, that he would like, at the end of his days, to look back and die knowing that he fucked the blond in every room and every corner of his palace. Giacomo, however, had not missed the movement of Friedrich‘s hand and his eyes had that shine in them again, the one which on its own was enough to let the fabric of the older man‘s britches grow even tighter. “I could lend you a hand if you require my help with your... problem, Friedrich,” Giacomo purred and Friedrich moaned in response, muttering something under his breath and allowing his head to lean back into his neck when the younger pushed his chair back and disappeared under the lavishly set up dinner table.

It has been some time since they had last - “You do realize that you need to spread your legs for me to reach your cock,” came the snort from underneath the table and Friedrich opened his legs as fast and as wide as he could without ruining his britches, looking down with hope to catch a glimpse of Giacomo in his hidden position. He let his disappointment be heared through a groan, the table cloth shielding him from waist down.

Not seeing what was going on but being depending on merely feeling made the slightest of touches so much more erotic, Friedrich‘s body was practically tingling from his senses running as high as they did. The gentle touch of Giacomo‘s hands on the inside of his tighs as the younger moved in between them, the lips that were suddenly ghosting over the bulge in his britches and the warm huffs of air that made the straining even worse. Friedrich burried one hand into the blond‘s hair, pressing the other over his mouth as to not alert anyone that would walk past their room with his moans. His breath was already coming in huffs when Giacomo began to, painfully slow, work on the fly of his britches to wrap one warm and soft hand around the base of Friedrich‘s cock.

“God, Liebling, oh -” “I do not seem to remember you being so vocal the last time I sat down here,” Giacomo chuckled, letting his words be followed by the first long lick along the underside of Friedrich‘s cock from the base up towards the head, rather causally as if it had become a routine. It probably was, neither of the men had even attempted to keep track of how many times the blond had sank to his knees in the ten months they knew each other. “And I do not - _ah!_ \- remember the last time,” Friedrich quickly put the palm of his hand over his mouth again to silence the moan that broke free when he was surprised by his cock taking a sudden but appreciated trip down the back of Giacomo‘s throat. This time, the king of Prussia had not needed to be reminded to let lose of his rough side, Friedrich‘s hand kept a strong hold on the fistful of hair it had grabbed and used it to control and guide the bobbing of his lover‘s head.

“How amazing you are, my Sanssouci, your lips around my -"

Friedrich fell completely silence and Giacomo stopped moving when their act was disturbed, and their mood somewhat destroyed, by someone rapping on the door thrice, hard. “For the sake of God,” the older man cursed and eased his hold on the younger‘s head to allow his lover to pull off, but Giacomo did not stop sucking and licking, merely slowing down at his task. Friedrich cursed something under his breath before he barked out the permission for whoever it was on the other side of the door to enter. He kept one hand on Giacomo‘s head and the other clenched into a fist on the table top when a guard entere, “I apologize for causing any disturbance, Your Majesty, but a courier just delivered a letter for Monsieur Casanova.”

The king nodded and beckoned for the guard to walk over to him and, how other could it have been, opened his mouth to speak right when Giacomo decided to push him closer to the edge by fondling with his balls in one hand and swirling his tongue around the pink and throbbing head of his cock, pulling at the soft sack with gentle fingers. “I - _ah_ \- I will pass it on to him, thank you. You may leave.” The guard, dutifully as he was, eyed his king for one more moment to make sure that there was nothing wrong with him before he bowed slightly, responding with a “Your Majesty” and turning on his heels to strud back out of the room, letting the heavy double-winged and gilded door falls shut behind him. Friedrich came a few moments after he and his still in-hiding lover were in togetherness again, spilling his release down the younger man‘s throat who eagerly took it, knowing that it was what the other liked.

He let out a growl when he pushed his chair back so forcefully that its legs scraped loudly against the wooden floor, the grip he had on Giacomo‘s neck still as strong as he pulled his lover to sight. Friedrich bend down and somewhat lifted the blond at the same time to capture his lips in a hard and demanding kiss, pushing his tongue past his lips and moaning when he could tast himself inside of his lover‘s mouth. “You are a brat, I told you to stop but you decided to keep going,” he said, though he had not even tried to sound truly mad, how on earth could he be mad at that. The two men grinned at each other, riding the wave of the risky-high by bursting into laughing that had them both shook. “We should do that again, Friedrich, do you not think so?” Friedrich made a vague sound, “If your knees can handle it, Liebling, you told me yourself that you are not so... comfortable on them any more.” Giacomo‘s eyebrows shot up to his hairline and the older threw his head back to laugh, clasping his right hand onto his chest.

“It was not me who complained about an aching back just this morning, was it?” He closed his eyes and the corners of his mouth tugged upwards when he was kissed again. Friedrich patted his cheek before he picked the letter up fro where it had been placed on the table in front of him at the same time Giacomo motioned to reach for it, too. “Ah ah ah,” he scolded playfully, clicking his tongue and standing up to but a distance between him and the still kneeling blond. “Friedrich -” “Come and get it, Liebling.” The king of Prussia was grinning and waving the letter like a youth would do with a bait in an act of naughtyness; his post-orgasm-antics could be ridiculous sometimes but it made Giacomo smile nonetheless, as Friedrich seemed to be so much younger in moments like such. The Italian sighed and planted one foot onto the ground to raise himself into a standing position, determined to not wince even if his knees would crack, but his lover clicked his tongue again, louder this time.

“I did not tell you to stand, did I? You look splendid on your knees, my Sanssouci.” Giacomo snorted but stood nevertheless, his knees would have hated him if he would not have done so. “Stop the child‘s play and give me the letter,” he laughed, please, _Your Majesty_.” Friedrich sobered somewhat but did not lose his smile, walking back over to his lover, kissing him thoroughly before passing the letter over. “I wonder why he gave it to you right away,” Giacomo mumbled as he turned the envelope to check out the seal before slowly removing it. “My guess would be that he did look for you, Liebling,” the older man smirked, just then closing the fly of his britches, “but he had no luck with finding you. I am curious whether or not they checked under the tables...”

“Oh do be quiet, Friedrich,” Giacomo blushed a tad bit and smacked Friedrich‘s arm with the letter before he pulled the folded piece of heavy writing paper out and unfolded it. Friedrich, in the meantime, had returned back to the chair he had been sitting in and sat back down, taking his glass and drinking from it with long and needy swallows. Thus, he did not notice right away how fast all color had been drained from Giacomo‘s face and how a tremble had began to show in his hands as the blond‘s eyes flew over the paper again and again.

Friedrich only looked at him as he put his glass back down. “Sanssouci?” Giacomo did not answer to him, did not even avert his eyes to look at the other, the only visible change the steadily increasing unsteadiness of his hands that were soon trembling like aspen leaves. He did not know what had kicked in, if it happened to be an instinct or some sort of presentiment, but Friedrich was on his feet and at his lover‘s side from one second to another, managing to catch Giacomo a mere second before the younger‘s legs gave out and he would have hit the floor with a sob if it would not have been for the arms around him. Friedrich was utterly confused and incredibly worried when Giacomo turned his face into his chest, he had never seen his lover lose his composure like this, so fast and brutal, crying out sobs that seemed to be coming from the very core of him.

The blond was too heavy for the king to hold him upright, so Friedrich slowly lowered until he was kneeling on the floor with Giacomo sacked against him, having completely switched from happy to devestated. “Liebling,” he whispered against the crying man‘s temple, kissing it, “talk to me,” hoping to somewhat getting him to calm down but failing miserably. “What are you crying over, my Sanssouci, what is it that upsets you so?” Friedrich looked at the letter that Giacomo was clenching in his right hand so hard the paper had creased and thus made it impossible for the king to actually make out the italicized words. Giacomo did press some words out between two sobs but they had been spoked with such a haste that Friedrich did not understand them. He ran a soothing hand over his lover‘s heaving and trembling back, his blouse being soaked by tears and snot the composureless man let out against chest. “I am sorry, Liebling, I did not understand,” he whispered, brushing the tip of his nose against Giacomo‘s temple, squeezing his own eyes shut. Hearing and feeling the younger cry like this hurt him, too.

“My - my mother she - her carriage got in an accident and she d-drowned before they could he-elp her,” Giacomo got choked up at the end and bursted into another swell off tears, clutching at Friedrich as if his life depended on it and Friedrich... yes, Friedrich did not know what he could possibly answer to that. He knew, of course, what it felt like to lose his mother, his sister, his brother, his friend or his lover to the cruel fate of death but what good could it be to Giacomo in that moment? How could that, in any way, ease his pain? “I am sorry,” thus was all he said, rocking the blond gently as he kept his hand moving, “I am so sorry my Sanssouci.” “ _Non posso credere che non ti rivedrò mai più mamma, voglio bene alla tua mamma_.”

Friedrich, of course, could not understand his cries but he, instinctively, knew what Giacomo was saying. “She loved you too, mein Liebling, you shall be assured to know that she did.” He continued to hold, rock and caress his lover until the worst of his crying had passed down to an irregular and raspy breathing that was every now and then disturbed by another desperate sob. The older man only eased his hold when the blonde stirred and pulled away to wipe at his face with both of his hands.

Giacomo‘s face was blotchy when Friedrich got to look at it again, the younger‘s eyes were red and puffy and his lashes darkened by the tears. “Liebling,” Friedrich whispered, making a sympathetic sound as he took the Italian‘s face into his hands and steadying him, keeping him upright as Giacomo really did lean and thus depended on himself being hold. But to the blond it, afterwards, was so much more, a gesture of support and security, of love and care. “I must be going to Venice right away I - my father, he surely is all alone and by himself and there is no one -” “Sh, listen my Sanssouci,” Friedrich cut him off, gently and tilting his head upwards so Giacomo‘s tear-filled eyes were forced to look at him again. And seeing those usually always bright and happy eyes so dull and puffy made him want to cry, too. “I will arange for you to go home as soon as you can, but it will not be today. Do you understand?”

“I am not going home,” Giacomo whispered as if it was a realization he just had, repeating it once, looking down before meeting Friedrich‘s eyes again. “You are my home, Friedrich. I am not going home.” The king clicked his tongue and pulled him into another hug, partly because he was at a loss for words but also to hide how wet his own eyes had gotten at the blond‘s confession. “I love you, Giacomo, I love you so much. You will be taking one of my carriages and I will order a pair of my men to accompany you.” Giacomo sniffled and his hands were holding onto the back of Friedrich‘s blouse again, toying with the fabric in between his fingers. “Why?” Friedrich smiled to himself, drove a hand through the blond‘s hair before cupping it in the back of his neck, “Because you are with me, Sanssouci, and it is not only us who know it.”

“Oh,” Giacomo mumbled and turned his face into the crook of Friedrich‘s neck, sniffling, “it is most reasonable, it really is, but I did not consider it.” If Friedrich‘s knees were hurting from being pressed against the wooden floor he pushed that thought back as far as he could. The man he loved needed him more than he needed his joints at that moment. “Of course you did not consider it, Liebling, as it is not an especially nice thing to consider.” Other than the younger, Friedrich had thought about it quite often in the last couple of months. His politics had seen more easy-going times and he knew that it was ridiculous to expect all those he had invited to stay at his court to be as true as he believed them to be, so Friedrich was sure that his opponents knew about the blond at his side. As long as Giacomo would stay with him and at Sanssouci he was safe, shielded from anyone that could be out to get at the Prussian king through him - but he would be leaving this space of safety for a trip through the German lands.

“I cannot believe that she is... d-dead.” Giacomo‘s whisper stopped the working of Friedrich‘s mind and he tightened his arms around him. “I know,” the elder allowed his voice to drop low to match that of the blond, caressing the soft hairs in the back of his neck in a soothing manner. “I will never see her again.” A sob escaped Giacomo‘s throat and he pressed his face harder against Friedrich, finding comfort in the way he could feel his pulse against his cheek and his smell all around him. “I know, my love, I know and I am sorry. I know that it is hard but you will be okay, I promise you that. It will be okay, Giacomo.” The blond sniffled and they fell into silence for the next few minutes, and while Friedrich was in a considerable amount of pain himself it was Giacomo who winced when he shifted his weight.

“I believe that you were right, about me not being so comfortable on my knees anymore.” Both men laughed and Friedrich‘s heart lifted at the smile that was present on the younger man‘s face, watching as Giacomo slowly stood and offered him his hand. Friedrich stood too, and wanted to add another remark but it would not have been wise since his own knee, the one that was prone to pain, protested with a crack. “Do not say it, Giacomo.” He kept his fingers interlocked with Giacomo‘s and payed dinner to further attention as they instead moved to the bed, where the younger sat down and allowed Friedrich to help him undress and guide him underneath the covers. Friedrich kissed his forehead, “I will go and write the order, you stay here Sanssouci. It will not be long.” “Okay.”

Giacomo watched Friedrich go, and he burried his face in the depths of his pillow once he was alone. The tears that followed were silent one, he should have known that he would eventually get such a notice and it was a lucky coincidence that Friedrich had been there to comfort him. Also, he should have expected it as neither he nor his parents had been getting younger... but what broke him so what that it had not been a peaceful death, his mother had not simply closed his eyes and fell into an internal sleep with a smile on her lips no, she had drowned and no matter how hard Giacomo tried, the painful images of how she must have struggled to break out from within the carriage as it filled with sea water. Had she been scared? He snorted and sniffled afterwards, what a stupid question. Of course she must had been scared, terrified actually. With who she had been and what she had done for her son... she had deserved anything but having to lose her life like this.

He was startled when Friedrich was suddenly back in sight and starting to undress, as he had just left a moment ago. “That was fast,” Giacomo said as he raised onto his elbows and wiped at the wetness on his cheeks, watching his lover undress. Friedrich snorted before he answered, “Did you expect me to spend an hour writing a simple order, Liebling?” The younger blushed and rolled his eyes, “No, I did not. I was merely saying -” “I was joking,” Friedrich sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh and turned halfway to gently palm the side of Giacomo‘s face, stroking the pale scar that could barely be felt; the one _he_ had left there all those months ago. The Italian sank back down, watching Friedrich from the corners of his eyes until they fluttered from the older‘s gentle touches. “Your belonging will be packed first thing tomorrow and the stagecoach shall be ready for you around midday.”

The soothing hand disappeared, and Giacomo would have made a disappointed sound at the loss it Friedrich would not have pulled it away to lie down himself, turning onto his side to face him. His hand returned onto the exact same spot, like it belonged nowhere else. Oh, it was such an appreciated gesture for Giacomo, but he kept his eyes open as he watched Friedrich watching him. The king had shifted so close that the tips of their noses were about an inch apart. “There is no need to pack them, Friedrich.” Friedrich did not understand, and it showed on his face before he voiced it out. “I do not understand...” “Why would I need to take everything from my home with me only to return it when I come back?” Something inside of Friedrich somersaulted and he moved his hand from the side of Giacomo‘s face over to his chin to gently tilt it up, kissing a corner of his mouth before he captured the blond‘s lips, kissing slowly and deepening it without any real hurry.

Giacomo gasped and shuffled a bit closer until he was able to comfortable put his arm around Friedrich, allowing himself to be pulled closer. Their legs intertwined on their own accord, just like they always did, and the two men only broke their kisses to draw in shared breaths. “This will always be your home,” Friedrich spoke low, kissing Giacomo‘s forehead instead, “and I want you to come back to me.” Confused by his words, or rather the last ones, the blond looked up with his brows pulled together. “Why would I not come back, Friedrich? I cannot be without you.” _I am not worried that you will choose not to return, it is my greatest fear that you will not be able to have a choice at all_.

He did not let those words pass from where they were practically resting on his tongue, rather chose to whisper sweet words of reassurance and love to the younger who soon drifted off to sleep. “You are my heart,” Friedrich said as he, carefully as to not wake Giacomo, got into a more comfortable position that he could hold him in, “and how good can one live without their heart?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

“The carriage would be ready for you, Monsieur Casanova,” the guard that appeared on the swell of the royal chamber informed Giacomo, who had just finished with putting his hair into a bowed-up pony tail. He looked at his reflection in the mirror before he turned around to answer, “Thank you, I shall be coming soon.” The guard nodded once and walked off again, leaving Giacomo to linger alone in the room that he and Friedrich had been sharing for the last four months or so. Not many of his things had been packed and loaded onto the carriage as Friedrich had taken his words to heart and thus renounced the order he had given out. Sighing, and with his shoulders somewhat dropping, Giacomo picked up the coat he had chosen to wear for the start of the journey and put it on.

He was not eager to be parted from Friedrich and the fact that he had to leave to pay his respect at his mother‘s grave did not make the situation any better to look at, and his heart was already aching when he thought of the month that they would have to stay apart, the month that they could not touch each other, speak to each other or fall asleep next to each other with their hands interlocked. “You look utterly beautiful, my Sanssouci. It is a shame that I am not able to fully appreciate it this time, with you having to leave me.” Giacomo‘s heart had already increased once he had heard the heels of Friedrich‘s shoes on the polished wooden floor as the king had walked through the corridor; and the realization that he had since gained the ability to identify him by the way he walked made Giacomo smile. “Yes, it really is a shame but maybe you could... write it to me? Later, that is.”

Friedrich smiled, though the younger man could easily that it did not quite reach his eyes this time, and strolled further into the room, holding his hands in the small of his back. Giacomo moved faster than Friedrich was, closing in onto him with long and hasted strodes and pulling him into a kiss once he was close enough, the kiss coming so suddenly that Friedrich gasped and was actually dumb struck for a few short moments, not answering to the pair of lips that were on his. Once the king did snap out of it, however, he turned the game around and easily dominated the blond by claiming his mouth with his tongue and the swell of his backside with both of his hands, groping and squeezing the twin cheeks hard enough to make Giacomo gasp and buck against him.

Giacomo shifted his arms until they were laying over Friedrich‘s shoulders, lazily driving his fingers along the knobs of his spine and caressing the tensed muscles of his back. “I would much rather like to leave with you, Friedrich,” he whispered against the taller man‘s lips between two kisses which were both slow and dragged out, almost as if they could make the moment last for all of eternity. Giacomo did not want it to end, wanted it to last. “Liebling,” Friedrich whispered back with an equally low voice, keeping one hand on Giacomo‘s backside but letting one wander upwards to gently put it into the nape of his neck, his thumb drawing lose circles into the softness of the blond‘s hair. “It pains me so greatly that I am forced to let you go on your own. There will not be a minute in which I will not worry about your safety and well-being.” The younger man pulled back, as far as the hand in the back of his neck allowed him to do, to meet the other‘s eyes, tilting his head slighty. He could practically feel that Friedrich was holding back, could easily see that there was a shadow behind the usually always bright blue of his eyes, making them appear dull.

And yet it was Friedrich, not Giacomo, who spoke before, even before the younger had a chance to opened his mouth. “I almost lost you once, Giacomo.” “Friedrich...” “Do not,” the king of Prussia spoke against the Italian‘s lips after cutting his protest of with another demanding kiss, “do not tell me that it is unnecessary for me to worry about you, there...” Giacomo raised an eyebrow when Friedrich‘s mouth continued to hang open but no further sound came out of it and the older man snapped it shut once he realized that he had held it open, clenching his jaw. He had wanted to tell his lover that there had been whispers of a possible escalation in the disagreement between him, the king of Prussia, and Karl Eugen, the duke of Württemberg, regarding a military action in Alsace-Lorraine carried to him, whispers that spoke of Karl Eugen von Württemberg planning to take a hit against Prussia, or maybe the Prussian king directly, whispers that had alarmed his advisors and recommending a cancellation or a change of the Italian‘s journey‘s route.

Friedrich had wanted to enlighten Giacomo about it, but had decided against doing so at the last moment, fearing that the younger man could take it as an attempt of him to hinder him at leaving. He could not have known how much he would regret his decision in the course of the coming month. Friedrich was pulled back to the there and then when the blond in his arms snorted and raised onto the tip of his toes to kiss him again. “I believe that we have to go now.” “I fear that you are right, Sanssouci,” Friedrich whispered, easying his hold rather reluctantly and allowing Giacomo to step away, the younger moving over to stand in front of the mirror one more time to fix imaginary creases out of his clothing. When the king of Prussia got to meet the blond‘s eyes again, Giacomo had put up what the older man believed to be a mask of pretentious bravery.

“Let us go then,” Giacomo said, clapping his hands together but accompanying his words with a sigh and a dropping of his shoulder. He took the hand that was offered to him, and a small smile played around the corners of his mouth when Friedrich pulled him close yet again. The older man put his arm around Giacomo‘s waist and splayed his hand on top of his stomach, stroking softly. “I would ask you if you really have to leave, but I know that you would not do so without a good reason.” Friedrich‘s voice was rough, as if he tried hard not to speak up, and Giacomo‘s eyelids fluttered close when Friedrich nuzzled his lips against his temple. “My mother...” The older man chuckles and kissed Giacomo‘s temple, “Hush, you know how I meant it.” “Yes, of course I do.”

The prospect of the Italian having to leave hung heavy above their heads and yet neither of the two men actualy wanted to be the first to initiate it. It was Giacomo who eventually sniffled and cleared his throat, making both Friedrich and himself burst into a fit of laughter despite the tears that stood in their eyes. “My god,” the younger snorted, wiping at his eyes, “when did we get so... bad?” Friedrich merely shook his head and smiled, interlocking their hands again. “Come, my Sanssouci, let us go. If you do not leave me right now I am not sure if I will be able to let you go at all.” Giacomo did not provide him with any arguement, only whispered an “okay” and allowed himself to be lead. He did, however, whistled once to call his dog to his side and the brown and white Papillon barked, hasting past the two men and down the corridor, stopping at the top of the stairs and looking back at Giacomo and Friedrich, barking again. “Well, it seems as if there is at least someone who is eager to leave,” the younger chuckled, though without any real humor behind it, and Friedrich squeezed his hand to comfort him.

It would have been strange, really, how hard it was for them to face Giacomo‘s departure if it would not be them. The Italian was leaving out of his own free will and with the secure prospect of being back within a month, maybe even less; they had been parted for an even longer time, when Giacomo had fled to France with Philippe de Lorraine and that cousin of his, but Friedrich vehemently refused his mind to go and search for any similarities between the two departures and neither did he want to pay the duke of Württemberg any further thought. Not with the man he loved still at his side, clutching his hand. “Or maybe he simply cannot wait to be away from my hounds, Liebling.” “That would be very understandable, actually, they can be a bit annoying. They are always strutting around with their noses in the sky like they are something better.”

Giacomo was teasing him and Friedrich knew it, the fact that the younger did so actually made his heart a bit more lighter, and he grinned when Giacomo squealed and flinched away after Friedrich had pinched one of his backside cheeks rather painfully. The blond turned around with his mouth hanging open and his hands covering his behind, his eyes following Friedrich as he laughed and walked past him, winking. “I merely wanted to remind you of what you can expect to get once you have returned here.” Giacomo‘s cheeks had since gained color and then stood bright and he hurried after the king of Prussia who had already taken the first few steps down the spiral staircase that would lead them down to the courtyard. “That is not fair,” he whined but grinned widely when Friedrich squeezed one of his cheeks again and leaned closer to whisper into his ear. “Oh, do you know what most definitely is not fair? That I cannot sit down on the nearest surface, put you over my knee and spank,” he accentuated his words with a love pad rather than a real smack, “your gorgeous behind until you -” “Friedrich!”

Their laughter and their, somewhat, lifted mood, however, sobered once they had reached the bottom of the staircase. The bright grin faded off Giacomo‘s face to be replaced by the cocky and arrogant look he always put on when he was out and about in court and Friedrich had never liked it, as it was lacking the softness and vulnerability that only he got to see, especially since Philippe de Lorraine had gone back to France again. “Wait,” the king blurted out, putting a hand onto Giacomo‘s shoulder just as the blond was about to reach for the know of the door. The younger turned around and did not complain when he was embraced and kissed again, the latter happening desperately as if Friedrich wanted to prove something through it. “Come back to me, my Sanssouci.” Giacomo swallowed, not really understanding what his lover was trying to get at. “I promise, Friedrich, I promise that I will. I told you that I will...”

Friedrich‘s lips brushed against his, the lightest of touches enough to send a buzzing through his veins, “I needed to hear you say it again, I did not have any doubts in your words.” “I love you,” Giacomo whispered back, eyelids fluttering with the effort to keep his eyes dry when Friedrich kissed him with a newly found vigor and in a way that was seemed like a seal to a promise, a promise he gave that he would keep his words. He realized that what was in his veins was nothing but love. Love; love for Friedrich that inhabitated every single fiber of his body. Love. “My bed will be so empty without you, Sanssouci, so lonely.” Friedrich‘s voice had dropped low again, almost to a purring sound, and the king could not resist the temptation of turning his face into Giacomo‘s neck and caress the soft skin he found there with his lips and his tongue and just the hint of his teeth. He breathed in the familiar smell, mentally forcing himself to remember it and already impatient to have it around him again, drinking in the lusted whine that escaped the blond when he sucked a bruise low onto his neck.

“We should...” “Yes,” Friedrich agreed and cleared his throat, swallowing hard as he stepped forward and opened the door, holding it open for Giacomo to go first, following behind him. He had kept his words, and Giacomo did not know why he was surprised by it, Friedrich had never not done so, not intentionally at least, as there was a pompeous gilded carriage pulled by four horses standing in the courtyard, awaiting him. Giacomo clicked his tongue but smiled as he threw Friedrich a side gaze, “The people will think that it is you travelling in it instead of me, Friedrich.” “They will think what they want to think, Sanssouci.” They reached the carriage way too fast, for both of their likings, and when one of the guards that would accompany the travel group and thus was dressed in all blue, stepped forward to open the door for Giacomo to get in, the king of Prussia felt his heart dropping from his chest down to the pit of his stomach.

 _It is only for a month_ , he tried to calm himself as he watched how his lover took the two stair up into the carriage and sat down, _only for a month_. _A whole month..._ “Friedrich, would you -” Friedrich bend down and lifted the dog up, passing it over to Giacomo who gifted him with a warm smile and a soft “thank you”. He did not know for what he longed to do the most, to just grab the blond and pull him back out of the carriage or to get in, too. Friedrich‘s hands were holding onto the rail of door‘s window opening as he and Giacomo looked at each other in a silent goodbye, the older could hear that the coachman and the guards were climbing onto their seats, preparing themselves to take off. “I do hope that your bed will stay empty and lonely as long as I am gone, Friedrich,” Giacomo said with a playfully scolding tone, teasing him, but Friedrich would have needed to be an utter and complete idiot to not hear the quite serious undertone out.

The window opening was too small for Friedrich to kiss his lover through it, at least not comfortably, so he reached inside to take one of Giacomo‘s hands into his right hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing each knuckle individually as he pressed something into the palm of the blond‘s hand, closing his fingers around it. “Please, my Sanssouci, worry about anything but that, I beg you. I would never...” The king kissed his lover‘s hand again, downright pressing it against his lips and Giacomo was sure that he could feel them tremble as they touched his skin. “I know, Friedrich. I do not worry about it.” The younger man used the thumb, the one of the hand that Friedrich was still holding, to gently stroke the soft skin underneath his chin, as it was the only part of him that Giacomo could have reached in that moment.

“I love you.” “I love you too, Giacomo. Mein Liebling...” “Farewell, Friedrich.” “Farewell, Sanssouci. Be safe and write me as often as you can, I shall be awaiting it.” “I will, it is a promise.” Only then did Friedrich let go of Giacomo‘s hand and stepped back, folding his hands behind his back as he gave the signal to the coachman in form of a sharp nod. His breathing got somewhat heavier when the carriage set into motion, and the last thing he saw of his lover was how Giacomo looked down at what Friedrich had placed in his hand before looking back up to bright smile, their eyes meeting for one, maybe two seconds and only losing each other when the carriage moved further down the courtyard.

The king of Prussia continued to stand there with his feet plastered onto the ground, staring into empty space long after the carriage had left his sight and wondering if there was a possibility of him just having made one of the worst mistakes of his life. He would have continued to stand there, still on the same sport, if it had not been for the day turning dark and the air getting more and more crisp, making him shiver and close his coat around him a bit tighter. It was quite cold for a mid May evening and Friedrich tried to tell himself that his heart beating forcefully against his rips had nothing to do with the goosebumps that broke out all over his back. He finally managed to pull himself out of his worry, somewhat at least. Just like Giacomo had told him, he was not on his own, the route Friedrich and his advisor had chosen for him was one of the safest one could take these days and he was accompanied by a couple of the king‘s personal guards. Friedrich merely hoped that, for once in his life, the feeling in the pit of his stomach would be wrong as he walked across the courtyard and back inside his palace. Now that Giacomo was not there to scold him, and now that his bed was uncomfortably empty, Friedrich was not aversed to spend the night hours behind the desk of his study.

~

As a young man, Giacomo had never been one for the concept of love - no, _a year ago_ he had not been one. His life had consisted of moving from city to city, from court to court, from bed to bed, leaving behind rows of broken hearts, also having his own heart broken once or twice and he had been getting comfortable with the fact that he, maybe, simply had not been destined to find love and settle down, living a happy life. And then he had met Friedrich, on that July afternoon... A smile spread out across Giacomo‘s face as he allowed himself to go further into the memories, leaning his head back and letting his eyes roam up at the night sky. Friedrich. Giacomo had not even kissed another man, and had, honestly, never really considered doing, before he had allowed the king of Prussia to seduce him in a way that Giacomo usually did with women, to put him onto his knees right there in the park. Giacomo embraced the faint blush that he could feel creeping up his neck and face, and he touched the fresh bruise on his neck.

How had it not even been a year yet? His life had changed so much and Giacomo was glad that it had, for a life without Friedrich he could no longer imagine. He loved him, and it played in his head over and over again and the blond smiled to himself again, the blush on his cheeks not disappearing. He really loved him, loved every aspect of him. There were so many “before Friedrich”s, before meeting him Giacomo had never considered kissing another man, had never even dreamed of ever sharing a bed with one, let alone to hold hands and actually fall in love with one. It had been new to him at first, to feel rough edges were women had curves, to feel big and strong hands where he had only ever felt soft and feminine fingers. But oh, Giacomo had never, not once, thought about trading it for anything after having Friedrich inside of him for the first time, his fingers, his cock... he loved Friedrich like he had loved no other and to have him love him back was everything he had ever wished for.

Giacomo was still smiling as his eyes shifted down onto the handkerchief that Friedrich had given him. His coat of arms and initials had been sewed onto a corner of it and the Italian moved his thumb over it to feel it, the small gesture of being handed the piece of fabric had been more meaningful and touching in away that the most pompous farewell never could have been. Being given a handkerchief, especially if the person it belonged to happened to be one‘s lover, and accepting it, was a promise; a promise that it would eventually be returned again. The carriage continued to move along the road, they would drive through the night and then make a stop in the morning, though Giacomo had to admit that he had forgotten where they would be stopping. Well, what did it matter - Friedrich had taken care of it for him. Giacomo had wanted to write a letter, notifying his father of him coming, but the day had turned dark sooner than he had expected it to, so Giacomo had stashed his pen and paper away again, making a mental notice to do it the next day, and instead had tried to make himself comfortable.

So as he continued to gaze at the stars, he was suddenly flooded by a wave of contempt. His life was as good as he would have dreamed it to be, he loved and was loved, he had regained his health back after some up and downs... though the unexpected loss of his mother did sober his mood. Zanetta Farussi had been an always caring and loving mother and ever since he had gotten the news of her passing, many forgotten memories of his childhood had began to resurface. Giacomo allowed himself to give in to them.

_“Mamma! Mamma!” Zanetta had been writing a letter to the George, the prince of Wales, and her heart had almost stopped beating when she had heard the calls of her young and only child. “Giacomo?” The pen in her hand hovered an inch above the piece of paper as she had listened with extra attentiveness, the the beating of her heart not slowing down when no answer had followed to her call. “Giacomo,” she had repeated, even louder that time and had stood to heap up her dress and dart out of the room with long strodes. The few servants had been busy working on the lower floor of the Casanova-Farussi villa, which stood proudly in the rich city center of Venice, so Zanetta had not been surprised when she had stepped out into the corridor and found it to be empty, with no sight of her son. “Giacomo!” The woman had fallen into a run and she hasted along the corridor, looking around. She had not known where the boy had called her from, the last time she had seen him, before retreating to her study, Giacomo had been playing in the courtyard but there had been no way that Zanetta could have heard his calls from there._

_“Mamma, look!” She had held a hand to her chest, above her heart, and had exhaled the breath she had been holding in when the small blond boy jumped out from behind a corner and into her path. Zanetta had squatted down, brushing a strand of her long blond hair back over her shoulder, before she had taken her young son‘s face into her hands and had kissed his forehead. “Mamma,” the boy had whined impatiently and had pulled his mouth into a pout, making his mother laugh openly. “What is it, mio caro?” “I make it for you, look!” The last of Zanetta‘s motherly worry had disappeared when little Giacomo had held up what she had believed to be a flower crown with his chubby hands, it had been made out of the seasonal flowers that had been growing in the courtyard. They had been bound together with such a care that she had been sure of her son not doing it all by himself, as he had been mere three and a half years old._

_Zanetta had smiled fondly and her eyes had a shine in them, both because of the flower crown and the boy‘s words. For his age, her son had been well spoken and a little cherub still, soft blond curls accentuating his child-like chubby face, and she had moved one hand through his hair as she had spoken, “Did you make it for me?” “Yes, I and papá did!” “Do you wish for me to wear it?” The young boy had nodded energetically, sending his curls bouncing and Zanetta had stroken one of his cheeks before she had lowered her head until Giacomo had been able to put the flower crown onto it. Her son had then clapped his hands together and giggled and Zanetta had to laugh, too. She had stood, fixing the crown a bit, and had lifted Giacomo into her arms, blowing soft raspberries against the side of his neck, making the child squeal and giggle louder. “I love you, il mio cuore.” The boy had wrapped his arms around her neck and had pressed one of his cheeks against his mother‘s, and Zanetta had smiled to herself as she had cupped both of her hands underneath his bottom to be able to carry him more comfortably._

_“Love you, mamma.” “And I love you, Giacomo, always and forever.”_

There, of course, had not been happy times only, especially once Giacomo had grown from a child into a youth and had began to test his waters, and even though he did not really want to think about them, he still did. He had rarely ever seen his mother angry, and even fewer times being angry at him, as he had almost never gave her a reason to be. The Italian‘s eyes were still not moving away from the night sky as he remembered.

_Zanetta had been somewhat disappointed, but the ache in her heart had been stronger whe she had looked at her fifteen-year-old son and had not found any remains of the sweet little boy he once had been. She had taken in the clenched fists at his side and the dark red on his face, the picture of anger he had portrayed had only been completed by the tears that had welled into his eyes. “What?” “I said no, you shall not be going to the feast, Giacomo. It is my last word.” Giacomo had made a contemptuous sound and had shifted, crossing his arms over his chest and clenching his jaw. He had pressed his next words through his teeth, “I do not care, I will be going.” His mother had raised from where she had been sitting in her armchair that had stood on the patio, and had slowly closed in onto the youth. “Would you repeat what you just said?” Her voice had been calm, almost dangerously so, as she had not wanted to let her own anger surface, too. She and her son had been so much alike, both in looks and temper._

_“Oh, I believe that you heard me well enough, woman,” Giacomo had snarled, the anger-fueled grimace ruining his pretty face. Zanetta had failed at keeping the gasp in her throat, having never been adressed too in such a disrespectful manner by the boy who had continued his rant before she could have interfered. “You never let me do anything, you never let me go to the feasts because all I have to do is to study and act how you wish me to!” “I am warning you, Giacomo, keep your voice down. Do not raise it against your mother.” Her words had the opposite effect as the boy had practically lost his composure for good, “See, that is exactly what I meant, you - you order me around as if you have a right to -” Zanetta had no longer been able to control herself, allowing her hand to raise and smack across the face of her son, hard, the sound of skin hitting skin loud in the air around them. Neither of them had said a word, both son and mother had been too shocked by what had just happened._

_It had been the first, and only, time that his mother had raised her hand against him. The boy‘s bottom lip had began to tremble and the anger had dissolved from one second to another as he had cradled the sore one of his cheeks, looking at his mother with wide eyes and a few tears rolling down his face. “Ma...” Giacomo had then bursted into crying, strong sobs that had shaken him where he had stood, and when Zanetta had taken a step towards him, he had backed away by two steps. “Mio caro -” “I hate you! I hate you, stay away from me,” he had yelled, voice almost breaking and taking a few more steps backwards. “Giacomo -” The door had been thrown into its frame when Giacomo had thrown it close behind him after he had ran back inside. There had been another door thrown close and Zanetta had known that it had been the one to his room._

_Giacomo‘s mother had practically fell back down into her armchair, hiding her face behind her hands. She had made a promise to herself, when she had found out that she would be expecting her first child, that she would never hurt it as the only vivid memories she had had of her mother were those of fear and pain - and she had just broken her own promise. Gaetano, her husband, had raised their son with a strict, but forgiving and never cruel hand, had always tried to keep a healthy relationship between him and his son. Examples of failed parent-child relations one could have found at every corner, so to say, and since Giacomo had been the only one of their children to live past nursery..._

_Fifteen-year-old Giacomo had been sitting on the edge of his bed, sniffling and still cradling his sore face, when Zanetta had knocked at the door of his room. “Go ‘way, leave me 'lone,” he had spoken, though, deep inside, he had wanted the exact opposit to happen. His mother had still entered, as she had not been able to hear his whispered words and Giacomo‘s eyes had grown wide once more when he had seen how her eyes were red-rimmed, too. He had not thought any futher, had not been able to hold himself back - he had jumped up and ran over to her, had wrapped his amrs around her with a strong force. “‘m sorry, mamma, I did n-t mean it I - I do not hate you,” Giacomo had sobbed and Zanetta had smiled, though it had not been a happy one, leaning her cheek against her son‘s head as he had continued to cry the sorrow off his young and heavy heart. “I know, and believe me when I say that I did not mean to hit you, Giacomo.” She had pressed a kiss into his soft hair, stroking it as her heart had threatened to burst from the love that had filled it. “It was not right... Will you forgive me?” The youth had nodded vehemently, speaking low with a rough-from-tears voice, “O-of course, mamma.” “I love you, il mio cuore.”_

_“Always and forever.” Zanette‘s smile had grown and she had tightened the embrace she had her son in, running a gentle hand over his trembling back. “Always and forever.”_

Giacomo had not realized that his eyes had brgan to burn, and he blinked hard as he eventually did. It sank into him; his mother was dead, he would never see her again. When he had left Venice for his travel to Potsdam, he had made a stop at his parent‘s villa to say his goodbyes and Zanetta had waved after him with her handkerchief, smiling. That was how Giacomo wanted to remember her, smiling, happy, in love with his father - not with the mental image of her drowning in a carriage. If he would have been granted a single wish, he would have wished for his mother to be granted a fast death without immense fear or suffering. He was pulled from the comforting, but at the same time incredible hurtful grasp of his memories rather gently when something light-weighted and fluffy suddenly came to rest on his hands that had been lying in his lap. Giacomo had blinked hard through his tears as he looked down at the dog that was then looking up at him with some sort of expectation, as it seemed.

“You are hungry for attention, are you not? My, Friedrich had been right,” he chuckled, managing to get his tears to retreat again. _You have cried enough already_ , Giacomo told himself and if he had been honest to himself, crying without Friedrich being there to console him was not a very nice prospect. He stashed the handkerchief he had been holding into the inside pocket of his coat - _keep it safe, do not lose it_. The dog tilted its head as if it was trying to understand what Giacomo was saying and the sight of it made him laugh.

The Italian drove both of his hands through the soft brown and white fur of the dog that eventually curled up and dozed in his lap as Giacomo petted him, pulling up his nose every now and then. One part of him was happy to go back to Venice, to his father and his childhood home, but the other part could not wait until it would be back in Potsdam and in his lover‘s arms again. His mind wandered off to Friedrich, to what he could be doing. Giacomo would have imagined that he was sleeping, but he snorted when he remembered that the older man was most definitely not doing so. He had not forgotten how Friedrich, at the beginning of their... relationship, had always worked late unless Giacomo had practically convinced him with hands and feet, sometimes his mouth, to rest. Turning his face towards the starry sky one last time, the blond closed his eyes, hoping for sleep to take over him sooner rather than later.

Giacomo had fallen asleep, lulled into it by a combination of his own exhaustion and the gentle movements of the carriage, only waking when the sun tickled the tip of his nose, making him scrunch up his face. He rubbed at his eyes, yawned and blinked fast as he tried to adjust to the brightness. They stopped even before Giacomo had lost the last remains of his sleep. “We are at out stop, Sire,” one of the guards announced as he opened the carriage‘s door for the Italian to step out of it. “Where are we ?” “Landsberg, Sire.” Having never heard of it before, Giacomo did not know what he should expect but the mansion being surrounded by nothing but green meadows had not been it. The guard had seemingly noticed his confusion as he added, “It is still a part of Landsberg, the estate is owned by His Majesty.” “Oh.” “You may eat and refresh yourself, His Majesty had ordered that we shall not be staying for longer than two hours.”

Carrying his dog, Giacomo walked up the pathway towards the entrance of the mansion when one wing of the large, double-winged entrance door was opened and an elderly woman greeted him with a smile on her face and an apron around her waist. “You must be Monsieur Casanova.” He nodded once and the woman stepped aside, motioning for him and the two guards to enter. “His Majesty had send word that you will be coming, Sire. Breakfast will be served right away, unless you are not hungry, of course.” She did not really expect an answer, Giacomo could tell, so he kept his mouth shut. “If you would follow me please.” Giacomo, with the two guards in two, followed the woman through the mansion. “I shall believe that you are at His Majesty‘s service then.”

“Yes,” she answered over her shoulder and with a smile, “it is my duty to take care of His Majesty‘s property and the guests that visit it.” It did not take the group long to reach the dining room where a table had been set at which Giacomo sat down. The guards positioned themselves on each side of the door and Giacomo thought of it to be a bit over the top because really, despite his relationship to the king of Prussia he was still a mere Italian nobleman and the effort that Friedrich had made would have been adquate for a member of the royal family. Not that he would openly say it, neither to the people he was surrounded by then or in the letter he would write to Friedrich. Giacomo took the jug of wine and poured a glass for himself, sipping slowly and stretching out his sore legs.

The woman threw a nervous look over her shoulder again, making sure that she had not been followed by neither one of the intimidating royal guards, before she retrieved a small notebook out from underneath her apron, flipped it open, hurried to scribble something onto a blank page and tore said page out before stashing the book away again. She folded the piece of paper and, after checking over her shoulder once more, slowly opened the door to one of the pantries where a a man had been awaiting her with a grim look on his face. “Took you long enough, woman.” Swallowing hard and dry down a suddenly tight throat, her fingers trembled after the paper was taken away from her by a gloved hand. Her conscience was screaming at her, she knew that it was not right, that she had just commited high treason and had send the man off to an uncertain fate - but she had not been given a choice, had been forced to comply unless she had wanted to see both of her sons being hanged. The cloaked man walked past her and out of the pantry and she only dared to leave it, too, after she had heart the back door fall close. Her heart was racing fast enough to make her nauseous. She wiped her sweaty palms at the apron she was wearing before she hurried towards the kitchen with a fast pace.

Giacomo did not have to wait for long until he was served a meal that was significally smaller than those he had been used to get at Sanssouci, he snorted at himself for even comparing the two, as one was a royal court while the other was a mere guest house, but the food was just as satisfying. He ate in silence and in a bit of a hurry, though he tried to not let the letter show too obviously, as he still had to freshen himself up and write a letter to each Friedrich and his father. If the woman that worked around him, trying to fullfill every single one of his wishes, appeared to be nervously eyeing him every now and then, Giacomo did not notice it. “Was it to your liking, Sire?” “Eh - yes, yes it was. Do you have a guest study, there are letters I need to write.” “Of course we do have one, Sire. I will show you to it.”

He nodded once and pushed his chair back to stand, following after her. The further they moved through the corridors the more Giacomo noticed the warmth that the mansion seemed to lack. The interior was rather spartan, not really matching Friedrich‘s taste, there were no plants or flowers and the only paintings that he spotted portrayed grim-looking soldiers. All in all, Landsberg was not a very enjoyable place. “His Majesty has never lived here, has he?” “Oh no no, it was one of Friedrich Wilhelm‘s summer estates, God rest his soul. His Majesty had visited it a few times as a crown prince but had not done so since His Majesty‘s father had passed. We would be here, Sire.” “Thank you,” Giacomo said with a nod and looked into the room before he entered, “you have been of greatest help.” “Call for me if you need anything else, Sire.” He did not lingered around for long and moved to sit down behind the desk that was one of the few pieces of furniture the room actually had to offer, setting the pot of ink down onto the table top and unscrewing the cap of his pen.

The few short lines to his father were done within a few short moments, as there was no need to add anything except his notice of arrival, but Giacomo took more time to write the letter for Friedrich. He did not know what he could possibly write without appearing too sappy, Giacomo eventually decided to report that he had had a comfortable journey so far, that he had just enjoyed a very nice breakfast and that he would write again when they would make their next stop. He ended the letter with an assurance of his love and signed it with, your loving Giacomo, before he blowed at the paper to dry the ink, folding and sealing it shut once it had dried. Giacomo wrote the recipient name onto the front of the letter and, despite how novelettish it seemed even to him, kissed it before standing with a groan. While the carriage that Friedrich had organised for him to travel in was more comfortable than the one he had travelled to Potsdam with, sitting still for so many hours had still put a strain on his back and Giacomo hoped that it would not get worse for he would other wise return to Potsdam as a cripple.

Humming under his breath and to himself, the Italian left the room and found one of the guards to have, by chance of course, took position at the end of the corridor. Said guard offered to take the letters and deliver them to the next post office they would pass. “Are we making another stop today?” “if we reach Leipzig we will, Sire, though I cannot tell you when we will reach it exactly.” “That I understand, thank you.” The time until they would depart again passed by fast, with Giacomo cleaning his teeth and face and then taking seat on a bench that stood in the mansion‘s garden, watching as his dog tolled around and he, somehow, was glad when it was announced, around midday, that they would have to continue their journey. Landsberg was an image of cold, harshness, strictness, showing absolutely nothing personal or enjoyable and as far as Giacomo could tell, it fitted perfectly to what he had been told about Friedrich Wilhelm.

The whip of the coachman had cracked in the air and the horsed had neighed, the wooden wheels of the carriage creaking as it had set into motion. Giacomo had taken a couple of books out of the storage, had asked the woman who had served him in Landsberg to provide him with a bit of fruit and wine, enough to last until tonight. The Italian had tried to make himself as comfortable as he could have been, and he was then sitting with his back against the carriage‘s wall and his legs spread out on the seat as he lost himself in the story of the book he had burried his nose into. Prince, his dog, was resting on the floor, dozing again, and Giacomo had to smirk when he looked at him. Really, what a life it must be to spend so many hours of the day sleeping!

Giacomo had lost track of the time they had been on the road after leaving Landsberg behind, but he had noticed that the sun had since reached its highest point and that the shadows were growing in length. He yawned and stretched his arms out over his head, groaning when his back gave a tale-telling crack. Friedrich would have teased him with no end if he would have been there to witness it, chirping about how Giacomo was showing more signs of age than he, the king of Prussia, was with twelve years his prior. Oh, but Giacomo still had to smirk when he could see his lover‘s face in front of his inner eye again, the look that had stood onto it when the blond had revealed to him that Friedrich was mere five years older than his mother had been had been absolutely priceless. Giacomo sat the book down and patted his thighs, “Come here,” calling his dog towards him, the animal had not needed to be asked twice before jumping onto its owner, hatcheling and closing its eyes when Giacomo fondled a spot behind its ears.

“You are a good boy, yes you are, _yes you are_ ,” he chuckled, not even embarassed at the way he talked to his dog. He was mournfully lacking a partner of conversation. His laughing, however, stopped from one second to another when the air, that had been filled with nothing but the sound of hooves on earth and the chirping of birds, was violated by an array of close-range shots so close that Giacomo was sure they had been let out right in front of them. The carriage came to a screeching halt, and his breath catched in his throat when he slowly sat, taking his dog into his arms, and tried to move as slowly as he could to peak out of the window.

Even if he had wanted to, there would not have been time for him to react to seeing the shot-dead horses, coachman and guards, all on the floor and tainting it with their blood that was in the process of forming some macabre form of a puddle. Giacomo stumbled backwards, heart in his throat when he stumbled against the seat he had been sitting on, in too great of a shock to let out a sound, let alone get his body to react when the door of the carriage was opened so violently that one could hear the hinges breaking. He still did not do anything but stare wide-eyes when someone climbed in to grab him by the ankles and only when he was dragged out, his reflexes kicked in. He had let go of his dog to be able to try and hold onto something, _something_ that could stop him from being dragged, anything that he could possibly hold onto. Giacomo clawed at the wooded walls, surely breaking a nail or two but being warded from the pain by the adrenaline that was rushing through his veins, and tried to get the attacker off by kicking his legs and his heart rate only increased when he realized that the pair of hands that had clamped down around his were too strong for him to fend them off.

The air was knocked from his lungs when he landed on the ground, the back of his head hitting it hard, too, making his vision get blurry for a few moments with every beat of his racing heart. “Now, _blondie_ , why all the struggle?” There were multiple men, Giacomo could tell, as there were multiple chuckles and reloadings of guns. “W-what do you want from me,” he rasped out as he tried to raise onto his elbows, eyes widening further when he was pushed back down by a foot on his chest, and since it was positioned right in the center of it, Giacomo had troubles drawing in breaths. He cold hear the blood rushing in his ears, his eyes watering. He was going to die, he realized, he was going to die right here at the hands of bandits. Just when Giacomo thought that it would be it, the foot disappeared and he was roughly grabbed by his throat and lifted to his feet. The choking sounds that he let out were the only thing that he could manage, and shaking fingers scrambled at the gloved hand that had plucked down on his windpipe. “Albert, what in the devil‘s name are you doing! We were ordered to ensure that he would be unharmed! We will not get payed otherwise - ease up, now!”

While the hand on Giacomo‘s throat did not disappear, it did ease its hold and the Italian drew in desperate and deep breaths, coughing and blinking hard to get his vision to focus again. “I would ask if you were one _Monsieur Giacomo Casanova_ but... it would be unnecessary. Or do you disagree?” It was all Giacomo really perceived before he was hit against his left temple, he could not have known that it had been the iron handle of a knife, and the world turned dark.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a pretty rough week so this little filler is all I managed to finish, sorry. The next chapter will make up for it though :-)
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

“Where do they claim to have seen it,” the younger guard asked the older as he fastened the saddle on his horse and pulled the stirrup down with a skilled easyness. “Near the old mill,” the older guard answered, stepping around the horse he had been working on to mount it. “Friedhelm, how much are you willing to bet that they are not as sober as they believe themselves to be?”

“Are you saying that the report had been a hoax?” The younger blushed, a shade that soon matched the color of his hair, when he was gifted with a look from over the elder‘s shoulder and he averted his eyes away; he should not be thinking such thoughts. _He is married, stop it_.  _He is not interested anyway._ Getting onto his horse, the younger suddenly fell into a soft chuckle. “Well, what are you laughing about,” the older asked, voice laced with a scolding undertone, as they both rode out of the stable. “Even if it happens to be a hoax, Karl, there surely could be worse thinks to do than go for a ride in such a nice weather, would you not agree?”

The older seemed to consider the younger‘s words and the creases on his face somewhat eased out in depth when he nodded, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “Oh, there could be worse things. Indeed there could.” If they took their time riding to where they had been called to, they did so unintentionally, but the smiles they had carried together with their conversation faded away as soon as they came close to the mill and were able to see a group of people standing, with a few meters of distance, next to a carriage that, in the way it had been positioned, blocked the path. “Why would someone leave a carriage like this just standing around?” The younger guard asked, looking at the other who did not answer to his question since he feared that he knew the reason.

The carriage was, as it had been reported to them, gilded and quite huge, most definitel not one that simple citizen travelled in. “Let us hope that it will not take long to find out.” Both guards dismounted their horses, and the younger wordlessly accepted when the older passed the reigns of his horse to him, too, thus telling him to stand back. An elderly woman of the group that had assembled at the scene had noticed the pair of guards approaching, and she fanned herself as she made her way over to him. “Good evening - oh how glad I am that you finally came! This is horrible, truly horrible, really!” The older one of the guards had to force himself to keep from rolling his eyes at the woman‘s antics, so he merely patted the hand of her‘s that was holding the fan in a gestural attempt to calm her. “Calm yourself, madam. Now tell me, where can I find the owner of the carriage?” “That is what I tried to tell you,” she almost screeched, her voice daring to topple over as she pointed at a spot behind her with one of her hands.

His brows scrunched together and he let his eyes follow to where the woman was pointing to, crossing himself when he saw the bodies on the ground. “Good God,” he murmured, brushing past the woman and the closer he got, the stronger the smell and the stickier the ground seemed to become. He did not need to look down to see that it was sticking to his boots, not needed to look down to check if it was blood and not some other fluid. It had been years since he had smelled it so intensily, and he had to turn away for a moment to collect himself with a hand over nose and mouth before he could face the scene again. There also was no need to see if any of the people on the ground still had life in them, the gunshot wounds on the side of their heads were too severe to not be fatal. The one Karl believed to be the coachman had even caugh a bulled through his neck, it was hopeless.

The guard squatted down at the side of one of the victims and a few gasps and whispers errode when he turned the body over onto its back, thus making the front of the blue uniform came to light. “They are Prussians?”, someone of the sightseers asked, even if it was most unecessary, as the black eagle did not leave any room for confusion. “They were not only Prussians, but royal guards.” He exhaled shakingly as he rose and turned to face the crowd, “Who travelled in it?” Nothing but confused gazes and low murmurs were exchanged and when the guard was about to ask, louder that time, someone else spoke up. “When we came here their wounds were still bleeding and... those are all we found. There was no one awaiting our help.” The guard had not noticed that he had held his breath, and he let it out abruptly as he practically whipped around to look at the younger guard. The bad feeling he already had about the situation had only gotten worse, and he staggered over to the carriage to peek inside, merely crossing himself again when he saw the blood there, too.

He put his hand on the knob and hesitated slighly before he turned it and opened the door, shaking his head. They had even shot the dog, what robber would not use it to make a few more thalers. Especially such a small one, he looked at it with pitty as he reached out to pick up the equally expensive looking coat that had been partly drenched in the red liquid, seemingly having been discared without a second thought. Again, what real robber would leave a piece like this laying around? This was making less and less sense to him. The older guard drew back to inspect the piece of clothing in the warm afternoon light, regarding gold it stood nothing behind the carriage and he used his free hand to search the pockets for what clue he did not know. While the outer pockets of the coat were empty, he did find something on the inside one and retrieved what he identified as a carefully folded handkerchief.

Draping the coat over one arm, he shook the handkerchief to unfold it and he would have been lying if he would have said that his heart had not sank into the pit of his stomach. “Friedhelm,” he called out, calling the younger guard to his side, trying to keep the unsteadiness out of his voice as he did so. The younger complied and came closer, confusion clearly written on his face. “Do you know what this is,” the older pressed out through his teeth, easying the hold he had on the handkerchief to lift it, thus enabling the younger to look at it, or more specifically the emblem in one of the corners. “They were Prussians, yes, but you already said that, Karl.” “It is the blazon of the Prussian royal family, Friedhelm, and the initials of the Prussian king have been embroided, too,” the older said with his voice dropped low. “Oh my God...” “ _God_ cannot help us if we do not find the person this,” he clenched the handkerchief he was holding, “belongs to alive and unharmed.” “But the blood...” “Yes, it is far too much for it not have been deadly,” was all the older guard said, turning his head to look at the gruesome scene once more.

He yet had to come across a more brutal robbery, if this turned out to be one at least. Four horses, three men, the dog - all shot dead for no apparent reason. Robbers ususally were after nothing but riches, only using their guns to frighten their victims as they rarely were eager to participate in a shootout and preferred to disappear as fast as they would appear. And yet those men had been shot before they had been given the chance to reach for their own weapons. “I checked, it does not seem as if the baggage had been searched. There is nothing missing. Karl, what on earth is going on” The younger had stepped closer, “Nothing has been touched. It seemed like they just shot and left.” “Ride back as fast as you can and notify the major that we have a code red. Tell him exactly and just that; a code red. Do you understand?” Taken aback by the rough tone of the older, the younger repeated in disbelieve, “A code red? Are you certain about it?”

“If I am not mistaken, and I am almost completely sure that I am not,” the older spoke, even lower and slower, “then we will be at war with Prussia before the sun will get a chance to rise again.” The younger gasped, his eyes searching for the older‘s, and nodded before he swung himself onto his horse and rode off. The older guard watched him go; as Karl himself had passed beyond fourty-five and had done his duty he would not be drafted for a possible war and he wondered if, maybe, it had just been the last time he had been able to speak to Friedhelm without saying what he really wanted the younger to know. He hoped that he would get another chance to do so.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

The first thing Giacomo had really perceived upon awakening had been the throbbing headache he had felt radiating from his temple, the sort of pain that made one not want to open their eyes. He had still done so, however, and a cold wave of fear had washed over him whe he had found himself in a room that he had not known, only dimly lit with the light of a chandelier, and tied to a chair with his wrist restrained. His breath had hitched when the memories had come back to him - _the carriage coming to a sudden halt, the gunshots, the dead coachman and guards on the ground, the hands on his ankles, the hand on his neck, the hit against his temple_ \- and he had tried to free his wrists from where they had been bound to the back of the chair. It had been to no avail, if anything his struggling had only made the restrains appear to be even tighter.

“You are finally awake, I see. Good, I had started to get worried.” Giacomo had stopped his struggle and practically froze, blood rushing in his ears as he had dared to look over to where he had believed the voice to come from. There, in an armchair that had been place in front of an unlit fireplace, someone had been sitting though Giacomo had only been able to see the pale hand that had been tapping its fingers against the armrest in an unnerving manner. Giacomo‘s mind had been anything but blank as there had been a million different questions and accusations on it, ranging from “who the hell are you” to “who do you think you are, keeping me bound like this”, but his tongue had partout not wanted to obey him. When he did manage to, finally, bring something out, it had been a stammered babble of “who - who the hell are you and what on earth do you want from me.”

The person, the _man_ that had been sitting, facing away from Giacomo, in the armchair, had rose onto his feet at the Italian‘s words and Giacomo‘s throat had dried up from one moment to another when a pair of blue, ice-like eyes had landed upon him. “Monsieur Casanova,” the man had spoken with a voice smooth like satin, “you would be wise to adress me with the respect that I deserve,” a voice that had been just as cold as the aura his eyes had been giving off, lacking any comfort and warmth whatsoever. Giacomo had swallowed and had needed to look away, he simply could not have stand to meet the other‘s eyes any longer. Was he scared? Probably, yes. If that man had been responsible for the ambush, a realization for which one does not needed to be a detective, he could do just about anything to him without a moment of hesitation, Giacomo thought. He had flinched unintentionally when the man had moved closer to him, and he had to force himself to keep his eyes on the floor. To his horror, he had already been able to feel them burn. God, he had been so scared; even more so than he had been when the robbers had grabbed him by his ankles and had pulled him out of the carriage.

Giacomo had known that the men which had accompanied him had been killed, he had known that they could not have survived a shooting like such, and he had feared that it would not be too long until he would have to join them in the cruel fate of death sooner than he would have liked to. His lower lip had began to tremble and he tugged at the restrains around his wrists with all the strenght that he had been able to gather together when the man had come to stand right in front of him. “Now,” the man had clicked his tongue and chuckled, humorlessly and just as cold, “where are my manners.” Cold - Giacomo, at this point, could not have known that cold would, in the near future, become what he would associate with him the most. He had gasped when his face had suddenly been grabbed and used to tilt his head back into an almost unnatural angle, so far that Giacomo had known it had been displaying his throat in an obscene curve, thus forcing him to look upwards straight into the man‘s face.

Only than he had allowed himself to take his abductor‘s features in; the man‘s ice-like eyes had been part of a slim and pointy face that had downright screamed arrogance and had been framed by straight blond hair in a tone similar to his own, the look of arrogance had been rounded by arched eyebrows and pointed lips. All in all, he could not have been any more fearsome in the eyes of the abducted man. “I do not believe that I have introduced myself yet, have I,” the man had went on and his fingers had been digging into Giacomo‘s cheeks quite painfully. “I am Karl Eugen, the duke of Württemberg.” The Italian‘s eyebrows had narrowed within a second from confusion and he would have liked to ask what the duke of Württemberg could possibly be wanting from him, but the fact that the man was a duke had made him even more scarier. Whether Giacomo would... survive this or not, he had already been assured by an inner calmness based on the knowledge then that Friedrich would avenge him one way or another. He had known.

“What do you want,” Giacomo had snarled and though it had sounded less vicious and came out as more of a slur due to him not having been able to properly open his, the duke apparently had heard and understood him well enough and Giacomo had regretted letting his tongue go lose when he had, barely, managed to catch sight of a clenched fist being raised a mere seconds before it had crashed down onto one side of his face. The pain that had bloomed from it, combined with the throbbing that had aleady been torturing Giacomo‘s head, had made him gasp from shock and lose the focus of his vision with every bear if his heart. Giacomo would have liked to turn his head, to hide his rising tears, but Karl Eugen kept the unforgiving hold he had on his victim‘s face.

Giacomo‘s chest had been rapidly heaving as he then, too afraid to even think about moving his eyes away from the duke‘s, had fought to keep him composure upright and had tried not to flinch when Karl Eugen‘s eyes had roamed over his face almost as if they had been searching for something. “Just so you do know what you can expect in case you think about disrespecting me again, Giacomo. Are we in the clear?” Giacomo would not have nodded even if he had been able to do so, fearing that it would have made the his dizziness worse, and he had merely hummed a sound which he had hoped the duke would read in the right way. To his relief Karl Eugen had indeed read it correctly and had let go of his face. Giacomo had gasped yet again, having been sure that there must had been bruised in the form of the duke‘s fingertips on his cheeks, too. Swallowing hard down his dry throat once more the Italian had tried to regulate his breathing, but he had failed to do so when Karl Eugen had spoken next. “Well well, where should I start.”

The duke had spoken those words low enough that they could have been meant for only himself to hear and had turned on his heels to strut over towards the desk that had stood a few meters away from where Giacomo had been forced to stay and Giacomo had wondered, for the first time, to where his abductors had actually brough him to. “I...” He had wanted to speak up, but the words had died on his tongue when Karl Eugen had turned around slowly, excruciatingly slowly, to look up from where he had been searching one of the desk‘s drawers and shoot him a dark gaze. “Do speak on, I did not forbid you to do so. It is babbling or disrespect adressed to me that I will not accept.” Clearing his throat, Giacomo had wrung his hands together as he had spoken up, “Why am I being held here?”

Karl Eugen had laughed and Giacomo had flinched at the sound of it, squeezing his hands together even tighter. If only he had not left Potsdam, if only his mother would not have died... he would be with Friedrich still. Though there had been adrenaline running through his veines Giacomo had been very much aware of his fear, he hardly could have ignored it since his heart beating a jackhammer‘s beat against his ribs had been only one sign of it. “That is a very good question, Giacomo, and actually exactly what I wanted to have this conversation with you about.” The duke had seemed to have found what he had been looking for, a letter, as he had pushed the drawer close and had walked back over towards Giacomo, the heels of his shoes clicking against the wooden floor. Giacomo had not known how he possibly should have assessed the situation he had been in; sure, he had been alive but maybe only still? The duke obviously had not hesitated to order the... yes, the execution of the royal guards and coachman, which had both been acts against His Majesty and which Friedrich would not be able to ignore - for what, to have a conversation?

“I do not know what I could possibly offer to you,” Giacomo had eventually said, “Your Grace,” though he had not dared to actually raise his voice. If submission in such a way was what would ensure his survival he would have needed to be damned too not comply with the duke‘s wish. Karl Eugen had not answered at first and instead had unfolded the letter with a cold grin spreading out on his face and had shook it to gain Giacomo‘s attention. He had only spoken when the Italian had been looking at him again. “I do beg your pardon, Giacomo, but I shall be gravely mistaken if you turn out to not be the only person that can and will enlighten me in the question that I have.” The disbelieve must had been clearly visible on the Italian‘s face, as the confusion must had been, and Karl Eugen‘s grin had only grown at the realization of it. “Do not shower yourself in pretentious humble,” the duke had made a pause and another step closer towards Giacomo, “ _mein Liebling_.”

Giacomo‘s heart had sank and his breath had hitched as he had looked at Karl Eugen with a fallen face; no, it could not be... “Now, Giacomo, do not act so surprised,” the other had went on, his voice since having gained a sing-sang tone, “you two really did not try to hide it, you cannot tell me that you did.” Giacomo had clenched his jaw despite the waves of pain that this motion had send through his body - the duke had landed a really nice hit with his fist. “Are you going to speak on your own or do I have to make you speak?” He had not been able to help t; he had snorted and shaken his head, “This is a joke, is it not? It has to be one.” Karl Eugen‘s face had shifted into a mask again and he had lunged forward, one fist clenched at his side, to grab Giacomo by the front of his dirtied blouse and pull him closer, not caring how the Italian winced as it put a painful strain on his wrists and shoulders.

“There are few things that I would enjoy more than to beat your mournfully pretty face black and blue and I hereby promise you that I will do it if you will not tell me what I need to know. Is that clear?” Giacomo had nodded hastedly, his eyes burning from the tears that had risen into them. God, he had been so scared. “Good,” Karl Eugen had said and let go of his blouse to straighten himself, brushing a strand of his hair off his forehead, “then tell me; what have you planted into the king of Prussia‘s ear that has made him change his course of supporting me in my goal to invade Alsace-Lorraine and reclaim it?” “What?” Giacomo had asked in utter disbelieve, “How am I supposed to know anything about that?” He had not been capable of supressing the pained cry escaped him when he had been hit on the same side of his face once more, though this time he had definitely tasted blood as an aftermath. Letting his chin fall to his chest, the Italian had closed his eyes when the first tears had found their ways through his lashes and down his cheeks and he had kept his eyes closed even as Karl Eugen‘s hand had roughly grabbed a fistfull of his hair and had tilted his head back.

If Giacomo would have opened his eyes he would have seen how the duke‘s face had gained a lot of color, a red blush that spread over the bridge of his nose and down to his cheekbones, and how the fist that he had held clenched had been shaking from the anger that he had failed to keep from boiling over. “Speak, or do you want me to beat you?” The Italian had swallowed at the other‘s snarl and had hesitated before he had answered with his voice being barely above a whisper, “I do not know, I promise I -” “Liar!” Karl Eugen had hit him again, with the same fist, his right, and onto the same side of Giacomo‘s face. A sob had escaped the Italian, his head had felt like it had been about to explode and the fact that the duke of Württemberg did not believe him had only made him fear for a pain worse than the one he had already been in. Karl Eugen had used the hold he had on Giacomo‘s hair to tilt his head back further and Giacomo had only then noticed that blood had been dripping from his nose.

“Please,” he had coughed, “I promise -” “You promise _what_ ,” the duke had snarled and had keept one hand in Giacomo‘s hair as he had captured his face with the other, squeezing with the knowledge of it causing more pain to the Italian. “He does not tell me about - about matters like such,” Giacomo had answered, his chin then trembling slightly from both fear and pain, “he never does.” Karl Eugen had chuckled in the same cold manner as he had done before and had stopped holding onto Giacomo‘s face to pad the sorest one of his cheeks had enough for it to be painful.

“Let me state the facts... so you really were nothing but the king‘s whore, were you not? Nothing more than that, Giacomo.” “You have no idea -” The sound of skin hitting skin had been loud in the room and it had been luck, Giacomo had thought, that it at least had been the other side of his face that had been hit. Thus, the overwhelming pain had been somewhat evened out. “I fear that I need to beat some respect into you, Giacomo, before I can deal with you any further. A shame, really, since I would have enjoyed to look at your gorgeous face a bit longer,” Karl Eugen had said, his words having been accompanied by pats to Giacomo‘s cheek that had turned into full-blown hits once he had finished speaking. Giacomo had squeezed his eyes shut as his tears than ran freely, glad that he managed to at least shed them in silence, having been very much aware that every pained sound or cry that he would make would spike the duke on.

Giacomo had not known for how long the assault had continued for, how long it had taken for Karl Eugen of Württemberg‘s arm to tire, as the throbbing that had long clouded his consciousness had somewhat shielded him from the full force of the pain. Oh, if he would have been pulled back behind the curtain of unconsciousness he would not have fought it. Karl Eugen had only stopped when he had believed the color on the Italian‘s face to be his satisfaction, a proper shade of red with hints of purple where had placed the hardest hits, and which, hopefully, had teached the newest guest of his house that he did not accept backtalk or disrespect of any kind. Not that he had taken a dislike of punishing the other man, it had not been very hard from his to see why the king of Prussia had given his favor to him. Karl Eugen had let go of the fistfull of Giacomo‘s hair and had taken a couple of steps backwards to fully apreciate his handiwork from a distance. He had only noticed the blood on his hand when he had wiped away at a few droplets of sweat that had collected on his forehead from the exhaustion of beating the Italian, and he had looked at his fingers, and the blood on them, before he had looked back at Giacomo as he had blindly searched the pockets of his coat for the handkerchief of his.

The Italian‘s chin had sank down onto his chest once more and he, other than the irregularly coming and raspy breathing, had kept quiet, even as the pain had threatened to overwhelm him. He had no longer been struggling against the restrains on his wrists and with his hair hanging down at both sides of his face, acting like some sort of courtain, had portrayed him as an almost perfect image of defeat. Karl Eugen had smirked to himself, keeping the handkerchief in his hands once after having cleaned the blood off his fingers. Oh, how he would have loved to get this painted and send to Potsdam with a courier but not without keeping a copy of it for himself. “If I find out that you have lied about this, Giacomo,” his voice had dropped low again, “I promise you that this will feel like an angel‘s touch compared to what I would give you then. Do you understand, Giacomo?”

He would have liked to raise his head and throw multiple Italian curses at Karl Eugen, would have liked to ask if he would be realeased not that it turned out that he could not answer to his questions. But Giacomo had not done so, and not only because the iron hold which fear had gotten of his heart. He had been sure that, even if he would have wanted to, he would not have been able to move his mouth enough, given how sore and swollen his face had already been. Giacomo had then made a silent promise to himself; he shall not give out any information even if he had the answer to the possible future questions he had been sure that the duke must be working on. He would, and could, not betray Friedrich, for his life as the king of Prussia was so much more valuable than his, or so Giacomo had thought in that moment. “I will be quite sorely displeased if I have to ask you again.” Karl Eugen‘s words had pulled him out of his haze and he had nodded as much as he could have done without making his world go blurry. “Good.” Giacomo had heard the duke walk again, the sound of his heels on the floor had been enough to make a shiver run down his back, and a silent gasp had escaped him when there had been a _clink_ of a door‘s lock which had been followed by nothing but silence.

Karl Eugen had left, Giacomo had realized and the wave of relief that washed over him made him sob out loud for the first in a long time, and he had been shaken by the sheer force of them, his wrists struggling in a week attempt to free them. He had cried; cried because he had been in pain, because he had been scared of what would follow next and because he simply had not understood why it was happening to him. Then that the first, initial shock had somewhat passed, Giacomo, in his suffering, had been met with a bone-chilling realization - the duke probably, no, definitely would not just let him go again, not with all the risks that he had taken to get him here in the first place. Giacomo had wondered if Friedrich had already been aware of what had happened to him or if believed that they were on the road still.

Giacomo had not known for how long had been unconcious after the attack and the room he had been in had not been furnished with a clock. The sutters in front of the windows had been closed, too, so he had not been able to judge the hour of the day by the position, or lack, of the sun. He had continued to sniffle and sob, lowering his head again as he had waited for the bleeding of his nose to stop. The taste of iron in his mouth had already been strong enough on its own and he had not been eager to double it by raising his head and leaning it back. The feeling of blood drying on his philtrum, lips and chin had disgusted him and he just wished that he could have freed his hands to wipe it away. Not being able to gain the track of time Giacomo also had not known how long he had been forced to linger all by himself, but the burning pain on his face had slowly and steadily ebbed down to more of a constant and deep throbbing. Just whe he had thought that he was about to be saved by the arms of sleep, the door had been opened again, a beam of light landing on the floor in front of him, and someone had walked in. He had kept his eyes closes as he had suffered in silence and his eyebrows had pulled together for a moment when the steps that then filled the air had seemed to be way more faster and lighter than those of the duke.

Cracking one eye open, Giacomo had then slowly opened his other when he, to his utter surprise, had seen a chambermaid which had been cleaning the dust off a few decorative vases that had stood on a chest of drawers. “Hello.” The chambermaid had flinched so abruptly that her hand, the one that had been holding the dusting cloth, had almost knocked one of the vases off its stand on the piece of furniture. She had just barely managed to catch it and had set it back down before she had turned around to face the man that had been tied to the chair. “I did not know that you were awake, Sire,” she had spoken and Giacomo had been very much aware of the pitiful sight he must had been giving; swollen cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, sitting wide-legged and restrained in a chait that offered him up like some sort of sacrifice. “It is quite alright,” he had mumbled, his cheeks had been too swollen and his jaw hurting too bad for him to open hit mouth and speak properly.

The chambermaid had looked at him with wide eyes and Giacomo had been sure that he had not only spotted a tremble in her hands but in her whole body; she had seemed to be downright terrified. “His Grace has left the palace to go for a ride, though I cannot possibly say for how long he will be gone for, Sire,” the chambermaid had continued and Giacomo had gotten the feeling that he had not been the first nor the last that had been forced to feel the duke‘s fist. He had mumbled a question but it had been to unintelligible for the woman to understand it. “I am sorry, Sire, but I did not understand.” Giacomo had drawn in a deep and raspy breath and had tried to not make a pained sound when he had opened his mouth a tad bit more to be able to speak more clear. “Where am I?” The chambermaid had peeked at the door as if he had feared for someone, most likely the duke, to appear on its swell, before she had answered, “Solitude palace, Sire.” He had narrowed his eyes as he had tried to bend his mind around it and the chambermaid, somehow, had read his look just right as she had added, “You are in Stuttgart, Sire,” without Giacomo having to ask, and the Italian had fallen silent as he, again, had tried to wrap his mind around what he had just heard.

Stuttgart, as far as he had know, had not been destined as a stop on his journey and he also had not been able to estimate how great of a distance layed between where they had been attacked and said city. “Thank you,” he had mumbled again, somewhat ashamed that he had not been able to speak in a proper way and shifting in the chair as much as he had could, wincing when the movement had made a bright pain shoot up his spine. He must had been restrained to it for some time. “Would you... like for me to bring you something to drink, Sire? I doubt that the blood does provide you with a pleasant taste.” Giacomo had nodded carefully and the chambermaid had nodded back, a small smile ghosting on her lips, before she had hurried off and had closed the door behind her. He had let out a breath he had not even realized he had been holding in and had shifted in the chair again, rolling his wrists with a hope of being able to prevent any kinks from getting into them. Stuttgart; why had he been brough to Stuttgart, he had thought, squeezing his eyes shit as he had carefully moved his tongue around his moouth to check for any damage. While the insides of his cheeks had been wounded from the hits, his teeth, thankfully, had all been in tact.

It had not taken long until the chambermaid had returned with a filled glass and when the door had been opened, Giacomo, that time, had noticed that the corridor had been lit with bright sunlight and thus making the darkness that had reigned in the room seem deceptive. “It is a simple wine, Sire, but I hope that you will like it. I took it out of the servant‘s stock so His Grace will not notice it missing -” Giacomo‘s eyes had widened and he had been able to feel his heart sink from one second to another when another person had appeared behind the chambermaid, its silhouette illuminated by the light from the corridor and thus making him look like a shadow of doom.

Giacomo‘s breath had hitched and he had watched with both horror and fear as Karl Eugen had rougly grabbed the chambermaid by the back of her neck, had whirled her around and had downright thrown her out of the room. The woman had not made a sound when she had landed on the floor, the glass she had been holding bursting into countless shards and spilling the wine against the marble tiles. “What did I order you to do,” the duke had barked, his voice almost toppling over, holding his fists clenched at his sides. The chambermaid had made the mistake of not answering to him immediately, as she had been busy trying to to collect herself off the floor again, and Giacomo‘s eyes had flown close when Karl Eugen had kicked the chambermaid‘s side, hard. “To clean the dust off the vases in your study, Your Grace,” the woman had spoken, trying hard to keep any sign of pain away from her voice, but she had winced when she had been kicked again. “Stupid whore, you cannot even follow a simple order that a donkey would be clever enough to comply to! Now get up and clean this mess up before I have to tell you again. I cannot have my home looking like that.”

Karl Eugen had kicked the chambermaid once more and just as hard as he had done prior and Giacomo had flinched at the sound of it. “O-Of course, Your Grace.” The duke had made a contemptuous sound and had turned away from her to re-enter the room that Giacomo had been in, and the Italian had flinched when the door had been thrown close had enough to make the vases rattle. “So,” Karl Eugen had started, slowly making his way over to Giacomo with his hands clasped behind his back, “that is what you are doing now, hm? Ordering my staff around as if you have the right to do so?” Giacomo had gasped, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he had managed to answer, “N-No, I did not do so -” “Friedrich has spoilt you, Giacomo, I can easily see it,” Karl Eugen had went on and his voice had been laced with the silk-like undertone that had made Gaicomo cringe.

“No -”

The duke had smaked him across the face as soon as he had been close enough to do so, and while it had not been as hard as the prior hits, it had been more than enough for the fire of Giacomo‘s soreness to lit all over again. While he had cared about his dignity, or the tiny rest of pride that he had left, Giacomo had cried out, unable to stop himself. Karl Eugen had roughly grabbed his face in a way that had forced the Italian to open his mouth unwillingly and despite of how painful it had been. “Stick out your tongue, Giacomo.” A sob had build up in his chest and fear had since regained a hold of his heart. “Please,” he had half whispered, half sobbed, but Karl Eugen had only dug his fingers deeper into his sore flesh as a silent warning for him to obey, and Giacomo had closed his eyes again as he had yielded. He had almost stopped breathing when he had felt the cold of a steel clade being held to his tongue - oh God, oh God. He had squeezed his eyes shut, so hard it had pained him, as he had awaited the burning pain of the blade cutting through his flesh, had forced his mind to focus on Friedrich and nothing but him. The tone of his voice that he had loved so much, the softness of his touches, the warmth of his smile and the gentleness of his hands.

But the pain had never come as Karl Eugen had only chuckled and withdrawn the knife again, folding it close and putting it back into the pocket of his coat. “I will spare you this once, but I promise that I will take your tongue if you lie to or disrespect me again, Giacomo.” The duke put a finger underneath Giacomo‘s chin to tip his head back, and the Italian had known, out of instinct maybe, that Karl Eugen had been finding satisfaction in the tears that had been standing in his eyes and the obvious fear that radiated from him. If Giacomo would have been in a clear state of mind he would have been confused, or alarmed, by how often the duke had used his name or how the corners of his mouth had turned up every time Giacomo‘s lower lip had trembled. “You will learn, Giacomo.” He had not known at that moment what Karl Eugen had meant and thus had only swallowed hard, his throat dry from both the fear and the fact that he had not been able to drink in a long while.

“It is a shame, really, that I need to be so hard with you, mein Liebling.” Giacomo had tilted his head back further to be able to get away from Karl Eugen's touch, managing to snarl, “Do not call me that,” through his pain. Karl Eugen had cocked an eyebrow and his eyes had narrowed as he had took hold of the Italian‘s face again, pulling him forwards and bending down so that he had been capable of speaking into the air next to his ear. “I shall call you what I want and you should accept it unless you want to spend the rest of your life without your tongue to complain about it.” Giacomo had felt his heart beating against his rips and a tear rolling down his cheek when the duke had pulled back from him with a smirk, patting his cheek and wiping the tear away. “But like I said, _Giacomo_ , you still have enough time to learn.”

With that, Karl Eugen had turned and left. Giacomo had tried to block out the pain in his face and his back as he had cried until he had eventually fallen into a dream- and restless sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy that was a ride, my computer had a near-death experience earlier today and I feared that I had lost this chaper but thanks to Steve Jobs' spirit or whatever it was that saved it! *cries*
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

To say that waking up without his favorite blond at his side had not dampened his mood all over again and in an instant would have been a life, despite how laughable it had sounded even to the king of Prussia himself. He had arose from sleep quite groggily, as he had worked until the hours of the night had gotten late, and when he had rolled over onto his back to blindly search the space on the mattress beside him for another warm body but had found it empty, of course it had been empty, Friedrich‘s motivation of getting up and out of bed had sank down close to zero. Groaning and rubbing at his tired eyes he eventually had sat up and had swung his legs down the side of the bed, chuckling to himself and at his own behaviour. Giacomo had left Potsdam not even three whole days ago and would be gone for at least three more weeks annd yet Friedrich had already wanted to do nothing more than to pull his lover into his arms while he would be sleeping still, had wanted to bury his face in the softness of the blond‘s hair and to kiss him as the first thing of the new day.

So, laughable really, but it had been Friedrich‘s most honest desire. In the months that he had known and loved the Italian, in the months that they had spend living together or apart in different countries and even during the times that he had almost lost or believed to have lost Giacomo, Friedrich had formed his life around him and now that Giacomo had been gone again, for a certain time only, the older man had felt somewhat incomplete and unable to go on with his daily life. It also had not helped that the feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one which had settled in the moment the carriage with his most priced possession had set into motion, yet had to disappear together with the nagging thought of constant worry in the back of his mind.

Friedrich had been very much aware of the fact that his worry had been too great, or so he had tried to convince himself. He could not have known that when he, still dressed in his morning robe, had sat down behind the small writing desk of his chamber, had pulled out a piece of paper and had unscrewed the cap of his pen with a ghost of a smile on his lips, suddenly having been inspired to write a short piece of poetry that he would add to the letter which he would send out to Giacomo later that day, that his lover had, by then, no longer been able to distinguish night from day. The king of Prussia would have liked to write longer, to spend all of the morning and forenoon hours sitting at the desk and looking at the painting that he had comissioned just a few weeks ago. Smiling fondly at the memory, and folding his hands on the top of the table as he had leaned further back into the chair, Friedrich had allowed himself to reminisce about it.

_He had surprised Giacomo as the younger man had been holding a conversation with a courtier in the garden, and Friedrich had almost laughed out loud when he had easily been able to see how the man Giacomo had been talking to, a young ambassador that had been send from England, had been in awe of the Italian. The ambassador‘s eyes had practically been as wide as dinner plates and while Friedrich had felt a stab of jealousy, he had known that his Giacomo would never give him a reason for him to worry about the blond moving between two or more beds. The young ambassador had been the first to see the king of Prussia closing in and had walked away after courting once. “Excuse me -”_

_“Oh my, Liebling, he looked at you as if you were the most beautiful piece of art this earth had to offer,” Friedrich had purred against the soft skin of Giacomo‘s neck after he had put one arm around him from behind and had pulled him flush to his chest. While he had not been able to see the blush spreading out on his lover‘s face, he had known that it was there and the knowledge of it being there was satisfactory enough. “Are you implying that I am not,” Giacomo had asked with a playfully accusing tone and a gasp, having allowed Friedrich to kiss the spot that he had spoken against one more time before he had wriggled out of the king‘s hold. “While you are the most beautiful man you yet need to become the most beautiful artwork, my Sanssouci,” Friedrich had spoken and had enclosed both of Giacomo‘s wrists with gentle fingers, thumbs softly stroking at the sensitive insides of the younger man‘s wrists._

_Giacomo had tilted his head, his beautiful eyes meeting the other‘s, “What do you mean?” Friedrich had broken out into a chuckle and had pulled the blond close again, kissing his forehead. “You will be getting your portrait done tody, Liebling.” “You did not...” “I did promise you that I would, did I not?” The two men had smiled at each other and Friedrich had interlocked their hands before he had started to walk, tugging at the younger‘s arm in an gesture for them to go back inside the palace. “When will the painter come?”, Giacomo had asked, holding onto the king‘s upper arm with his free hands and almost nestling against it as they had walked._

_When Friedrich had looked at his side and was met with the pair of shining brown eyes he had realized, once more, just how glad he had been that the Italian had grown so comfortable with showing affection outside of the privacy of their rooms. He had not forgotten how nervous the younger had been at the beginning, always blushing and stuttering. It had been cute, and Friedrich had smiled as he had remembered it. The king‘s heart had always filled with pride when he could see how courtiers, ministers and everyone else that he would come across would, without any real exception, continue walking with their eyes firmly glued onto the blond. That there had been countless rumors about their relationship going around in Potsdam as well as at the royal court in Berlin, where his unwanted wife had been residing, the king of Prussia had known. Of course he had known, it had been only natural as talking was what people did, and that someone had seemingly been able to melt the king‘s heart that had remained frozen for over thirty years had not been something expected._

_Friedrich, then, had not yet known just how powerful those rumors had grown to be. “He has already arrived, Sanssouci, we are meeting him not.” “Now?”, Giacomo‘s question had been high-pitched and he had haltered to look at Friedrich in disbelieve. “Yes, now.” “But - I must change my attire before I-” the blond had spluttered and the king had silenced him with a breath-taking kiss. “Hush, Liebling, do not argue,” Friedrich had said, brushing a strand of hair away from Giacomo‘s face and behind his ear. “You cannot be any more beautiful than you are right now, Sanssouci, and I want you to be depicted in that way.” Giacomo had clicked his tongue and Friedrich had been taken aback when the younger man‘s eyes had filled slightly. “Liebling?” The Italian has tsked again before he had put both of his hands on each side of Friedrich‘s head and had pulled him down to kiss him, whispering “You know what it does to me when you say those things” against the other‘s lips._

_“Me speaking nothing but the truth?” Friedrich had kissed a corner of Giacomo‘s mouth and had motioned with his head for them to continue their way, “Come, I am sure that he is awaiting you.” “I love you, Friedrich,” Giacomo had taken a hand of Friedrich‘s into his and had squeezed it, and Friedrich had squeezed back. The king of Prussia had decided for the session to take place in his study, as the tall windows overlooking the garden had been, in his opinion, offering the perfect scenery, and the court painter, one Anton Graff, had already finished putting up his easle when they had arrived. “Thank you for coming on such a short notice.” “It is an honor, Your Majesty,” the painter had stood and bowed slightly, then looking at Giacomo instead._

_“Will it be Monsieur Casanova today?” “Yes,” Friedrich had said, nodded, and had stepped aside, gently pushing Giacomo forward with a hand in the small of his back. “Alright, very good.” “Would it be possible for him to stand in front of the window?” The painter had nodded absentmindedly as he had looked at the spot the king had been pointing, beckoning Giacomo over and while the Italian had moved to where the painter had wanted him to be - standing in front of said window and leaned onto his left hand which he had planted onto the top of a chest of drawers - Friedrich had moved into the back of the room for him to be able to watch._

_Giacomo had fixed his hair so that his curls had hung over his chest, framing his face, and had kept his left hand on the surface of the furniture while putting his right on his hip. “That posture is perfect, Sire,” the painter had said, sitting down on his stool behing the easle, picking up a charcoal pencil that he would use for the first sketching of the future oil painting. Friedrich, who had folded his hands in his lap and had since crossed his legs, had to smile when he had spotted the faint blush that had risen into Giacomo‘s face. He could not have known that it had not been out of nervousness but from the younger having to force himself to not smile back at Friedrich, too. “Wait!”, Giacomo had shouted, suddenly, and had practically jumped out of the position that he had taken, making the painter lower his hand again. “What is it, Liebling?” “I...” the faint blush on the blond‘s face had deepened, “would like for the both of us to be painted, Friedrich.” Oh, how the king of Prussia‘s heart had summersaulted in his chest at his lover‘s suggestion, and he had smiled widely, almost from ear to ear, as he had stood and crossed the room to come to the younger man‘s side._

_“I shall grant you your wish then,” he had whispered and had kissed Giacomo‘s cheek before he had put his arm around the Italian‘s waist and had listened to Anton Graff‘s instructions of how they should position themselves so that the scene would be balanced_ \- Friedrich had been pulled from the memorie by Wilhelm, his valet, who had been standing in front of him out of what he had believed to be thin air. “I did knock, Sire. Twice.” “Of course you did, Wilhelm.” The king had to chuckle when the valet had looked at him, then at the painting and back at him. “While I have to admit that it truly is a beautiful piece of art, Sire, I cannot accept it that you are going about without taking your meals. You need to keep your strength, Sire.” “I must have lost track of time,” Friedrich had said and stood, nodding at his valet who had then moved around the room, picking out the clothing that he would help the king to get in to.

“May I ask you a question, Sire?”, Wilhelm had asked as he had held the coat up for the king of Prussia to be able to put it on more comfortably. “You may, Wilhelm.” “Are you aware of the rumors, Sire?” Friedrich has stilled before he had slowly turned his head to look at the valet from over his shoulder and Wilhelm thought that he had been able to see... something behind the blue of the king‘s visible eye. “There is no way in which I could not be aware of them, Wilhelm, the rumors are neither new nor unexpected, are they. People talk, it is what they do.” “Of course, Sire, I am highly aware of that. But since you have told me about the mouths that had been talking about Karl Eugen I have instructed my men to hear around more closely and I have been notified that the voices around him have intensified, Sire. I do not know whether or not they are true but I thought that you would want to know, Sire.” Friedrich had not answered, not right away at least, as the feeling of a possible doom in the pit of his stomach had about tenfolded at the valet‘s words. “I appreciate that you decided to tell me, Wilhelm. Let us hope that they are not true.” The king‘s valet had not asked why and had, much to Friedrich‘s relief, dropped the topic as fast as he had brought it up.

Not only had waking up alone dampened Friedrich‘s mood on that day, but dining had been just as boring. The king of Prussia had eaten in silence with only the two guards at the door keeping him company, his eyes had kept switching over to where his blond would have been seated, usually at the other end of the table or, when Friedrich had wanted to be close to him even then, to his left. He had tried to keep his mind busy by trying to imagine what Giacomo would be doing then, and Friedrich had known that he would not have been worried to such an extend if it had not been for the worry that had been eating away at him slowly but steadily, a constant and underlying worry that had made feel as if there had been an impending doom hovering above him, just waiting for the right moment to fall down and crush him. Friedrich had doubted that he would be able to forgive himself if his decision would result in something happening to his Giacomo, and that exact thought had stood as a harbinger as not even five minutes had passed before he had heard hasted steps coming in his direction and the door of the royal dining room had been practically thrown open.

Friedrich had whirled around, holding a napkin to his mouth, as he had been just finished chewing on a mouthfull of a baked treat, and had watched with narrowed eyes as his valet had entered, followed by two guards of the king‘s regiment and two, much to the king of Prussia‘s confusion, Saxon guards, dressed in all black and yellow. The room had fallen in complete silence after the heavy, double-winged door had fallen close behind the group‘s sudden entry and Friedrich had looked at them for a few moments before he had lost his composure for a short moment. The king had jumped up from the chair and had thrown the napkin that he had been holding down onto the table, with enough force to knock over his glass and with a shout of “have you all forgotten where you are”. His anger had dissolved, however, when he had noticed how Wilhelm‘s face had lacked any healthy color and that his valet had been holding out and offering a letter for him to take.

He had not taken his eyes off of his valet as he had walked over to him with fast and long strodes to snatch said piece of paper from his hand. Friedrich had unfolded it, his confusion only getting bigger when he had recognized the wax seal as that of Franz Xaver, the regent of the Electorate of Saxony, and he had been able to hear the blood rushing in his ears after he had read it once, twice, and a third time. _To His Majesty Friedrich II, king of Prussia and Electoral of Brandenburg [...] I, Franz Xaver, prince of Saxony and Poland, duke of Lausitz and regent of the Electoral of Saxony, hereby am sorry to inform His Majesty with the biggest of regret that there had been an attack on His Majesty‘s carriages, which had been travelling through my land, near the city of Leipzig. The attack had ended with there being no survivers to serve as possible witnesses, the victims had been identified through the papers that they had carried with them as one Giacomo Girolamo Casanova, Lieutenant Ernst Heinrich Zechner, Lieutenant Karl-Wilhelm [...] My people are working on finding those responsible for it, and I [...]_ Friedrich had exhaled sharply, sure that Wilhelm had been able to see the tears which had swam in his eyes and had blurred his vision, when he had stared at him, shaking his head in a silent act of rejection.

Friedrich had refused to even consider what he had read to be true, but on the other hand he had known that it could not be a lie. Without having to be told to do so, one of the Saxon guards had stepped forwards and Friedrich had only then seen the box that the other had been carrying. He would have liked to do nothing more than to turn around or back away, fearing that he had known exactly what it had contained. The king of Prussia‘s legs, however, had acted on their own accord as they had set into motion and had walked over to the guard. His arms and hands had acted without him being aware of it, too, and Friedrich had only snapped back out of the strange haze once he had been holding the lid of the box that he had just lifted. The inside of the king‘s chest had seemed to pull together, making it impossible for him to breathe, and Friedrich had feared for the world to turn dark when he had reached inside and pulled out whatever the box had contained.

It had been the coat that Giacomo had been wearing on the day of his departure and Friedrich had to close his eyes and turn his head away for a few seconds as he had been met with the overwhelming smell of blood. His stomach had churned and he had swallowed hard before he had been able to look again; he wished he had not done so, as his heart had dropped when he could see that more than half of the piece of clothing had been soaked with the red fluid. Friedrich had thrown both the coat and the lid of the box to the floor when he had reached inside again, he had already known that it had been the handkerchief which he had given to his lover before he had even looked at it. The king of Prussia‘s composure had crumpled and he had turned around, using the handkerchief to hide his face in it as a desperate sob had escaped him.

 _No, no no no no no_ had been all that his mind had repeated, screamed, over and over again. _No no no, it could not be, it just could not, not his Giacomo and not like this, not now..._ “Sire,” Wilhelm had spoken after nothing but raspy breathing had filled the room, and Friedrich had shaken his head as the only answer to the valet‘s words. “They have brought the bodies with them, Sire, so that they could be burried with the honor they deserve.” The bodies. Giacomo‘s body, lying on a stretcher, grey and cold, so cold, his eyes open and dull... Another wave of nausea had washed over the king of Prussia at the mere vision of lover being possibly presented to him in such a way. He had felt sick, both physically and mentally, and his breath had been labored when he had turned around to face his valet and the handfull of guards. “Where are they,” Friedrich had managed to bring out and Wilhelm had easily heard the hurt and despair radiating from him, had been able to see how unsteady the king had stood on his feet. “They are out in the courtyard, Your Highness,” one of the Saxon guards had answered, removing his hat and courting as he had spoken to the king of Prussia.

“The smell, it is... too strong to be pleasant, Your Majesty.” Friedrich had to swallow had to keep the bile that had rose into his throat down. No, this was not happening, he had thought, if it is a dream I would like to wake up now. He had clenched his fists in a way that had made his nails dig into his sensitive palms quite painfully and yet the people in front of him had not disappeared and he had not found himself to be in bed, still. No, this had been a nightmare that had, once more, wormed its way into his life in the most cruel way. The king of Prussia had nodded weakly in the direction of his valet, showing that he would be ready to go and see... the bodies. He had not been ready, of course had not been, and he never could have been, but he had needed to see Giacomo in order for him to believe that he truly would be gone forever, even though the nagging voice in the back of his head had been reminding him that there was no room for false hope or misunderstandings indifferent to when he had received the fateful letter from Philippe de Lorraine all those months ago.

The guards had then, on the order of the king‘s valet, lead the way, and Friedrich had fallen back to the end of the small procession. If he had been favoring one of his leg over the other and had stopped for a short moment to squeeze at his knee with a pained expression, Wilhelm had not mentioned it. They had reached the courtyard too fast for Friedrich‘s liking, if it would have been possible he would have walked until he would drop dead just so that he would not have to see it. How could he be able to keep his composure, his mask, up in front of the whole lot of the court that seemingly had gathered around the bodies that had been laying on individual stretchers and covered with white sheets. The king of Prussia, long having been overwhelmed by the shock and the prospect of grief, either had not noticed or had decided to not pay any thought to the fact that there had been not four, but three sheet-covered bodies awaiting him.

The whispers that had been buzzing in the air had died down when Friedrich had nodded at one of the Saxon guards who then had uncovered the first of the bodies; one of the guards that Friedrich himself had selected to serve as a protector of his lover. The young guard had been shot through the neck and it would have been a gruesome sight even if he had not been so mournfully young, fresh out of cadet school. The king had let out a breath that he had been holding in and had nodded again, the guard then moving on onto the next stretcher; Friedrich‘s heart had almost stopped when he had caught sight of blond hair, but it had merely been the other guard, the Lieutnant, whose hair had been colored red by the massive wound on the side of his head. It then had been clear to the king that wounds like this, especially having been made over a distance, could not have been made by an inexperienced shooter.

He had been able to hear the blood rushing in his ears before, yes, but by then his pulse had sped up so that he had been able to feel the blood passing through his veins, he had not been scared like that in over thirty years. Seeing the guard holding a corner of the sheet, waiting for his sign to flip it back, had triggered the same emotions in him that he had felt with his face pressed against the bars of his cell in Küstin. Fear, helplessness, despair and some sort of underlying anger, he had been angry at himself for not being able to prevent it, for provoking it even. He had known, hell, he had been about to tell Giacomo of what he had heard, about the dangers that could be lurking on the road but no, he had decided that it would be better not to tell him. He should have listened to the voice in his head and the feeling in his stomach that he should have... he should have done more to prevent this from happening. But he had not done so; it was his faul. _His fault_. _His fault, it was his fault and not even Giacomo, especially not Giacomo, could convince him otherwise_. Friedrich had simply stared at the sheet-covered body on the stretcher in front of him with all of his senses and attention focused it, thus not noticing how the many courtiers, ministers and employees around him had started to whisper hastedly once again.

The Saxon guard, the one that had been holding the sheet, had looked at his comrade who had simply answered with a shrug of shoulders, before he had thrown a questioning gaze at the king‘s valet. Wilhelm had been clenching his jaw as he had tried not to listen to the whispers that went on around him, it had not taken much of his imagination to figure out what his king was going through and it would have been a lie if Wilhelm would have said that it had not touched him, too. He had picked himself up and together, in a metaphorical way, and had dropped his voice as he had stepped forward and to the king of Prussia‘s side, “The faster that you bring it behind you it the sooner you can go back to the privacy of your chamber, Sire.” It had been a somewhat risky thing to say as Friedrich, under other circumstances, could have misunderstood it as a command rather than a suggestion. But he had not done so then. Instead, Friedrich had flinched a bit and had blinked hard as if he had just woken up, and Wilhelm had clenched his jaw again when the dull blues of his king landed upon him. It had seemed that he had not even tried to hide his hurt, something that had been highly unusual of Friedrich as he had mastered the art of concealing while under Friedrich Wilhelms‘s abusing cane and fist.

“I do not know what to do, Wilhelm,” Friedrich had whispered and Wilhelm had been taken aback, slightly so, when one of the king‘s hand had taken hold of his lower arm, squeezing hard as it had been the sole way that Friedrich had been able to express what had been happening to him. The valet had not answered, not verbally at least, as he had squeezed the king‘s hand that had held onto his arm. Friedrich had collected the bit of strength that he had left, had removed his hand from Wilhelm‘s arm and had nodded a tiny nod, but it had been all that he had managed to to. His arms had been hanging down his sides, his hands unclenched, and with his composure as good as gone, he had looked like a man without a spine and had felt like one, too. The Saxon guard had obeyed to his gesture without hesitation, moving around the stretched to fold the white sheet back with more care than he had done with the others. In a reaction that had been fuelled by his grief and shock Friedrich had laughed. He had laughed, dry and without any joy behind it but with tears then visibly swimming in his eyes once more.

The king of Prussia had quickly wiped at a tear that had escaped his eye, snorting just as dry as he had laughed, “Do you think that it will do you and your country any good it you play jokes on me?” The guard‘s eyes had opened wide and his mouth had opened and closed for a few time, a hot blush on his face, but he had not been given the chance to answer before Friedrich had practically bursted into furious yells. “Do you? Who is responsible for this?” “Your Majesty -” “I do not believe that I allowed you to speak! Who is responsible for this?” Wilhelm, who had been watching with eyes that had been as wide as the guards had, this time, not whispered as he had spoken, “I am sure that it is but a misunderstanding, Sire.” “Then where is he!” Friedrich‘s face, despite how obviously angry he had been and despite his yelling, had lacked any color whatsoever. “I want you to tell me where he is _right now_ , or I swear that this will be the last day of your life that you will be able to spend in peace!”

A few gasps could have been heard, along with a few fans being hastedly opened and fanned, when the last of the bystanders had realized what had happened. The carriage had set off with _four_ people and the letter from the Electorate of Saxony had spoken of _four_ victims and yet there had been only _three_ bodies that had been brought to Potsdam. When no one had answered to his outburst, the Saxon guards looking like they had been anything but comfortable in their skins, Friedrich had suddenly been confronted which images in front of his inner eye that had made a violent shudder go through him; _his Giacomo, wounded, lying in a ditch somewhere, lingering for hours on hours on end, crying, because he was in pain and with no one there to help him, to get him out of there and to safety. His Giacomo, dead in a ditch somewhere, because no one had come in time to save him. His Giacomo, dead in a ditch somewhere, even now after all those days. His Giacomo, his beautiful and gentle and so loving Giacomo, dead in a ditch somewhere, a ditch that would be his grave._ No, Friedrich could not have imagined a less adequate place for the man he loved to be. Giacomo had deserved better, had deserved to... be here. If it was the last thing that Friedrich could to for him, it would be to bring him home.

_“I am not going home,” Giacomo had whispered as if it had been a realization he just had, repeating it once, looking down before meeting Friedrich‘s eyes again. “You are my home, Friedrich. I am not going home.”_

“If they do not tell me where he is,” the king of Prussia had snarled viciously to his valet and if Wilhelm would not have known him for such a long time, he definitely would have feared him in a way that he had only feared Friedrich Wilhelm, “my troops will be on their way to Saxony before this day has ended.” “May I say something, Your Majesty,” one of the Saxon guards had asked after he had walked around his comrade to take off his hat and sink down on one knee. He had been offering himself, and Friedrich had tried to stop his labored breathing before he had answered. “You may.” The relief had been visible on both the kneeling and the standing Saxon guard‘s face, and when he had stood again, the guard had spoken. “I would give my right hand in a bet that there is no way that anyone is still at the scene of the attack, Your Majesty. There had been a hundred men, including me, Your Majesty, that have searched the whole area in a radius of a post mile. If the Sire that is missing had been hurt we would have found him, Your Majesty. He could not have walked or crawled any further with an injury, not without collapsing or... passing, Your Majesty.”

The king of Prussia had not known what to say, something that happened on very few occasions. If the guard‘s words had been true, if they had searched the area and if they had not found a trace of him other than his coat, his papers and the handkerchief... no, he would not allow himself to hope for Giacomo to be alive still since it would mean that he would be kept in captivity of those than had attacked him, and God knows what they could be doing to him in that moment. No, Friedrich would not act so selfishly as to wish for him to be alive only to suffer. He surely had been injured, given the state of his coat, and he knew that those who would hold him as a prisoner would not provide him with medical care. On the other hand it would mean that he could still be alive, and Friedrich would not simply give up on him. _Giacomo was worth a battle, and more,_ he had thought, clenching his fists at his side as his body had trembled from the sheer force of the wave of emotions that had flooded over him. _H_ _e was worthy of beginning a whole new war for him._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the updated tags!
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Giacomo no longer flinched when Karl Eugen grabbed him, turned him around and pushed him onto the bed. He no longer cried when there was Karl Eugen‘s face hovering above his, when he could feel the duke of Württemberg moving inside of him. He no longer cried when Karl Eugen pushing past his muscle wounded hom due to the lack of a lubricant and he no longer had to squeeze his eyes shut to surpress the tears when he could feel the warm huffs of Karl Eugen‘s breath against the side of his neck, where the other would hide his face in as he snapped his hips forwards again and again. Giacomo also no longer felt sick at the slick sound that filled the air, at the wantoned moans of Karl Eugen and at the rough hands that would grip at his waist, his backside or his hair. No, Giacomo no longer flinched or cried or felt sick. He would just lay there instead, be it on his stomach or his back, and stare at the painted ceiling while Karl Eugen would pleasure himself inside of him. He would have liked to tell himself that he also no longer felt the agonizing burn and the sting, but he would have been lying to himself it he would have told so.

He still felt it. Pain; pain was all that filled his thoughts, his subconscious, his life. Pain; pain that yet has to subdue from the level that it had been when Giacomo had first felt the duke‘s fist on his face. “I cannot believe how tight you are,” Karl Eugen breathed against his neck, the hands that where on the Italian‘s hips tightening its hold as the duke moved his hips forward with newly found vigor, “it is no wonder that,” another thrust, “he liked to play with you,” and another, “as much as he did, _Liebling_ ,” and yet another which had been rough enough to make Karl Eugen moan audibly and Giacomo close his eyes for a long moment. He would have liked to retort that Karl Eugen was wrong; he would have done so, had done so before, but he knew that it was more wise for him to keep his mouth shut. Giacomo was not eager to be beaten until he would fall unconscious and not be allowed to eat and drink for as long as Karl Eugen would like it again. If it had been a lesson, Giacomo had already learned it by then.

“Look at you, _Liebling_ ,” Karl Eugen spoke against the skin of the Italian‘s neck, leaving behind kisses that caused shivers to go down Giacomo‘s spine for an entirely different reason. “Look at you, _Liebling_ , being a good little whore,” the duke went on, closing his lips on the area of skin he had been kissing, sucking on it before he pulled it between his teeth and bit down, hard, hard even for his standarts, making the Italian flinch. Giacomo did not even realize, due to how focused he had been on trying to block Karl Eugen in and on him out of his consciousness, that there were tears standing in his eyes and that his chin had began to tremble sligthly, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. How ironic that it depicted "The Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus", really, and how ironic that Giacomo had recognized it but not the reactions of his own body. Karl Eugen had, somehow, noticed his tears before he did and they did not disappear when Karl Eugen‘s rough fingers grabbed his face and turned his head for him to be forced to meet his eyes.

Karl Eugen continued to move his member in and out of Giacomo as he kept his eyes locked with him, fingers digging into the flesh of Giacomo‘s reddened cheeks. “Tell me that you like it, _Liebling_ ,” Karl Eugen purred, nuzzling his nose against the other‘s jawline before pulling back to look at him again, and Giacomo would have been lying if he would have said that it did not make his stomach flutter in fear, the purred but yet cold tone of the duke‘s voice somethong that he would probably never not be afraid of. “Giacomo, _Liebling_ ,” Karl Eugen went on, his voice dropping lower and his finger digging in deeper in a silent warning, “I do not believe that you wish for me to ask you again, do you?” “I do,” Giacomo whispered, his own voice at the verge of breaking, “I like it.” Karl Eugen chuckled darkly and did not let go of his face as he lowered his head and kissed him just as rough, pushing his tongue past Giacomo‘s lips without asking for a permission to enter it, he also did not seem to care about the fact that the other was not responding to it. Karl Eugen would always take what he would want to have, be it Giaomo‘s pride, dignity or physical integrity; even Giacomo as a person.

He did not know for how long he had been held captive, for how long he already had to endure Karl Eugen‘s brutalities. Karl Eugen dislodged from Giacomo‘s mouth to resume his task of fucking him in earnest while repeating “ _Liebling_ ” under his breath over and over again and Giacomo could not have known why Karl Eugen had called him like that for as long as he had been a prisoner of Solitude Palace. He could not have known that it had been Karl Eugen‘s intend to replace the obviously happy memories of Friedrich that had been attached to the word “ _Liebling_ ” with his own image, to practically burn himself onto the Italian‘s soul. All that Giacomo did know was that being called “ _Liebling_ ” made his blood freeze with fear and his nausea rise, gone were the butterlies in his stomach that had come up ever since Friedrich had called him “ _Liebling_ ” for the first time. When Giacomo‘s face had been freed again he had turned it away from Karl Eugen as good as he could have done it.

No, he no longer flinched and he no longer cried. Karl Eugen finished soon after, spilling his release inside of Giacomo and the feeling of it no longer made the Italian sick. Giacomo just layed there as Karl Eugen waited until his member had shot out the last of the white ribbons before he pulled out and climbed off the bed. Karl Eugen had not even viewed it as a necessity to undress before taking Giacomo, who himself was naked and did not move, who simply continued to lay outstretched on his back when Karl Eugen closed the fly of his trousers and walked over to stand in front of the mirror and fix his hair. Karl Eugen did not gift Giacomo with another look as he bend down to pick up the nightdress, the one the Italian had been dressed in when the duke had arrived at the chamber, and throw it into the direction of Giacomo. “I will see you tonight,” was all Karl Eugen said before he walked out of the room, locking the door behind him. Giacomo had only flinched slightly at the key turning in the lock, not at the piece of garment landing on him. The nightdress was by no means cheap, Giacomo had been able to tell so after the first touch, and yet it felt no different than rags.

Giacomo sat up, slowly, trying not to clench his muscle even after he had felt Karl Eugen‘s release move inside of him and he quickly stood to pull the nightdress over his head. He knew better than to leave stains on the bedding that Karl Eugen provided him with, to recite the duke‘s words. The nightdress was all that he was allowed to wear, but since he was not allowed out of the room anyway, it, in the end, was better than nothing. At least it was something, he had tried to tell himself. He tried to not burst into unwanted tears as he limped through the room and to where the door lead to the small adjoined bathroom, tried not to heave up the few contents of his stomach when he could feel what he knew was a mixture of Karl Eugen‘s release and his own blood trickle down the insides of his thighs. Giacomo limped into the bathroom and soaked a cloth in the cold water of the basin, wringing it out before he ruffled up the fabric of the nightdress with his free hand and began to wipe himself clean. It would have been more bearable if the water would have been luke warm rather than cold, but he knew better than to be... dirty when Karl Eugen would come to see him again.

Karl Eugen would do so in the morning and late at night regularly, also between the audiences that the duke thought to be especially frustrating and which left him with the need to let off steam. Giacomo would never dare to ask when, or if he would be released again. “ _You should be greatful that I am allowing you to live, Liebling. I could take your life, too, and with nothing more than a snap of my fingers.”_ He gasped when he threw the cloth back into the basin, making the water splash and held onto the edge of the basin with both hands, his head hanging low as his body trembled without him being able to stop it. No, he no longer flinched, he no longer cried and he no longer felt sick - but there had been times, not too long ago, when Giacomo had done all those things. He could not muster the strenght to fight the rising memories back down, and continued to hold onto the basin as they washed over him.

Giacomo had only found out later on that he had spend almost fourty-eight hours, almost two whole days, being restrained to the chair without neither foor nor water nor the ability to move his sore limbs. Once Karl Eugen had left him to linger in the overwhelming and frightening darkness it had not taken him long to find the sort of sleep that was dream- and restless and more of a state of unconsciousness rather than recuperation. Giacomo had, later on, wondered whether or not he had fallen unconscious instead, since he had woken up only after he had been moved out of the chair and onto a bed. His heart had raced in his chest when he had regained consciousness and he had practically jumped up into a sitting position when he had not been able to figure out where he was. Giacomo had regretted moving so fast as it had made a wave of pain radiate from his entire head and had caused his vision to go blurry with dark specks at its and he surely would have toppled over backwards of it had not been for the hand than had suddenly appeared on his shoulder.

“Easy, _Liebling_ , do mind your injuries.” He, for a mere split second, had thought, had hoped for it to be Friedrich, calling him the way he would do so often, always really, but no; the voice, in contrast to the king of Prussia‘s had brought nothing but fear to him. Giacomo must had whimpered and tried to move away from Karl Eugen‘s touch unintentionally, an act which the duke of Württemberg had not approve of, a disapproval that Giacomo had to learn of the hard way. Karl Eugen‘s hand, the one that so helpfully had kept him upright had landed on one of his sore cheeks, not really hard enough to truly hurt but enough to make tears spring into Giacomo‘s eyes; if it had been possible the wounds on his face had grown to be even more painful in the time that he had not been awake

“Tut-tut, _Liebling_ ,” Karl Eugen had said with a shake of his head, putting a finger underneath the Italian‘s chin to turn his face towards him. He had spoken with a voice that, somehow, had been much less flat and cold than it had been the last time the duke had spoken to Giacomo. “I do promise that I will treat you so much nicer if you only learn to behave yourself, _Liebling_.” Giacomo had blinked hard, thus making a single tear trickle down his swollen face as he had watched how Karl Eugen had turned on the chair, which had been placed at the backside and which he had been sitting in, to pick up a jug of water from the nightstand and he had filled a glass before he had turned back around. The Italian had managed not to flinch and back away when Karl Eugen had held the rim of the glass to his lips, tipping its bottom up to urge Giacomo to accept the drink. He had only then realized just how thirsty he had been, he had not been able to remember when he had drank last, and the sound Karl Eugen had made had sounded somewhat pleased when he had filled the glass a second time so that Giacomo could empty it again.

“Do you feel better?” Giacomo had nodded slightly, unsure of how to deal with the unexpected change of Karl Eugen‘s behaviour, fearing that it would swing back at any given moment, and thus am unwanted shudder had went through him when Karl Eugen had raised from the chair to sit down on the bed and next to him instead. If the duke had noticed that Giacomo‘s arms that had barely been able to keep him upright had trembled, he had decided not to mention it. “Calm yourself, _Liebling_ , I shall take a look at your face,” Karl Eugen had spoken and had once more put a single finger underneath Giacomo‘s chin to raise it, closely inspecting the wounds that his fist had left with his eyes only before he hand felt over the Italian‘s cheekbones with surprisingly gentle fingers. “I surely did mark you well, _Liebling_ , it should look and feel like this for about a week but no bone has been broken. Are you hungry?”

Giacomo would have liked to snap something along the lines of “why do you ask when you already know the answer”, but had wisely chosen against doing so. _“I will spare you this once, but I promise that I will take your tongue if you lie to or disrespect me again, Giacomo.”_ So he had only nodded and Karl Eugen had retrieved the small bowl of grapes that had stood on the nightstand, next to the jug of water, and as if it had been the most normal of things, Karl had plucked a frut off the peduncle and had, too, held it to Giacomo‘s lips. “Alright, _Liebling_ , open up that pretty mouth of yours.” Everything inside of him had wanted him to resist but he had obeyed nonetheless, having been aware that he had not been granted with another choice, really. He had known that his body would probably not manage to go through another beating like the one he had received one, or maybe two days prior. Thus he had opened his mouth only a bit, as it had been the most he had managed to do due to the throbbing soreness of his jaw, and Karl Eugen had slipped the grape in, the tip of his thumb brushing over Giacomo‘s lip after he had done so.

He had watched as the Italian had chewed slowly and carefully, before he swallowed the fruit rather hard as if it had not wanted to go down. “Do you wish to have another one, _Liebling_?” When Giacomo had nodded again, Karl Eugen had clicked his tongue, “Now, _Liebling_ , I am sure that your voice is perfectly fine for you to use.” “I wish to have another one,” Giacomo had whispered, “please.” The unexpected calmness that Karl Eugen had been showing off had scared him just as much as the duke‘s anger would have in that moment. “Well, it does seem that I judged you wrong, _Liebling_. You are learning faster than I had expected you to do.” Giacomo had not known whether Karl Eugen had clenched his free hand where it had rested on the mattress coincidally or to accompany his words, but it had been enough of a gesture to make the hunger Giacomo had felt disappear within a second. “N-no, thank you.” The duke of Württemberg had cocked an eyebrow, the hand that had already plucked off another grape haltering, “Are you sure, _Liebling_?” “Yes,” Giacomo had answered with a whisper, his eyes still fixed downcast and Karl Eugen had made a sound that the Italian had not been able to put his finger upon and had shifted to put the bowl back down onto the nightstand.

Karl Eugen had then stood and offered his hand out for Giacomo to take it, “Come, _Liebling_ , you shall no longer be dressed in those dirty clothes of yours.” Giacomo had looked down at himself, he had merely been layed onto the bed, not underneath the covers, and thus had been able to see that he had been wearing the same clothes that he had done one the afternoon... He had swallowed and had, in a subtle act of defiance, eventually gotten off the bed without taking Karl Eugen‘s hand, not seeing the shadow that had layed upon the duke‘s gaze as he had done so. Giacomo had failed to surpress the shocked gasp that had came up when Karl Eugen had simply cut the blood-stained fabric of his blouse, using the same knife that he had threatened to cut his tongue out with. He had gasped again when Karl Eugen had roughly tugged at the cut-open blouse until it landed on in a heap on the floor. The rate of Giacomo‘s heart had sped up when he had noticed the change in Karl Eugen‘s behaviour, the duke‘s face had seemed to be more set and when Karl Eugen hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of his britches to start using the knife on them, too, one of Giacomo‘s hand had came up to stop the duke‘s.

“Please...” “Remove your hand or I will cut _it_ off before I cut _these_ off,” Karl Eugen had merely said with that ice-like voice again and Giacomo had pulled his hand back even faster than it had came. He had closed his eyes, feeling a familiar burn in them, when Karl Eugen had moved the knife equally roughly and fast through the fabric of Giacomo‘s britches and undergarnments. “Please...” He had no longer been able to keep the tears from rising until they had to roll out of his eyes when he had stood naked in front of the duke of Württemberg, shaking much like a leaf in the wind from the fear of what he suspected would follow next. Giacomo would have liked to run, to run until he would be safe and until he would be with Friedrich. “Please, do not -” Karl Eugen had grabbed him by the upper arm and had whirled him around from one second to another so that Giacomo‘s shoulders were pressed against his chest and his groin pressed against the curve of the smaller man‘s unclad backside. He had enclosed Giacomo‘s throat with his right hand as he had pulled him backwards until he had been able to speak into the air next to his ear.

“Listen,” Karl Eugen had snarled and continued to squeeze the other‘s throat while he had ran the tip of the knife across the rapidly heaving chest of the Italian, making Giacomo‘s breath catch in his throat even more. “The only reason why I did not end your life yet, _Liebling_ , is because you are important for my next political move. It is the only reason why I did not slash that pretty throat of yours the moment you woke up, though I would not turn down the opportunity do to it now.” He would have liked to speak and he had opened his mouth to do so, but Karl Eugen‘s hand had clasped down harder at exactly that moment. “Oh, you wanted to say something?”, the duke had chuckled low “I am sorry, _Liebling_.” Giacomo had winced as a pair of lips had brushed along the shell of his ear, he had felt physically sick when he had been able to feel Karl Eugen‘s errection pressed against him.

“You see, _Liebling_ , it is so painfully obvious as for why the king of Prussia chose you to be his whore. Your face, even bruised like it is now... the mere imagination of you on your knees would be every man‘s wet dream.” Karl Eugen had slowly began to kiss down the side of his neck and Giacomo had fallen into utter panic, but the sort of panic that would freeze one to a spot rather than make one‘s legs more on their own accord. “Which, furthermore, is why I am so sincerely confused that he yet has to acknowledge you being gone, _Liebling_ , to state that you have been abducted.” His heart had summersaulted, he doubted the truth of Karl Eugen‘s words and he yet had been hit by them, in some way. The duke had chuckled again as if he had been able to read the other‘s mind. “Do you know for how long you have been ‘missing‘? For three days, _Liebling_. My men who collected you on my order sedated you with Nitrous, it did knock you out but who would have thought that it would work so great that the king of Prussia himself would forget about the very existence of his most favored whore?”

As Karl Eugen‘s hand on his throat had eased its grip a bit Giacomo had been able to throw a snarl of “shut your mouth, you do not know what you are talking about” at the duke. He had to fight for breath when Karl Eugen had clasped his hand onto his airway once more and had pushed him forward until he had practically fallen, bend at the waist, onto the bed. Too shocked by what had just happened Giacomo had reacted too slow for him to be able to fight against his wrists being grabbed, rougly turned onto his back and a piece of fabric being wrapped around them. No no no no, his mind had screamed and though he had not voiced it out, he himself had not been sure whether he had done so or not and had tried to somehow scramble back onto his feet, but the hand between his shoulder blades had pushed him back down and left him without any real room to struggle. “Take this as your last and final warning, Giacomo, or you I will make sure that you will not be able to speak ever again. Are we in the clear?” “Yes.” “Yes, _Your Grace_.” "Yes," had came the whispered answer, "Your Grace."

He had almost stopped breathing when he had suddenly been breached with two fingers at once and since they had lacked any lubricant whatsoever, there had been nothing but pain as Karl Eugen had scissored them. Giacomo had clenched his jaw shut and had tried to relax his nethers as much as he could have with the frightful prospect of what would be coming. “You know, _Liebling_ , I would usually say fuck the king of Prussia,” Karl Eugen had spoken low, pushing his fingers in deeper and making Giacomo flinch. “But I do believe and shall prove that fucking the king‘s whore does bring a greater pleasure with it.” His eyelashes had already been darkened and thickened by tears when Karl Eugen had aligned the head of his cock against his too tight and puckered muscle. He had known that he had been doomed to tear even before Karl Eugen had started to push in, but he could not have known just how intense and overwhelming the pain would turn out to be; Giacomo‘s hands had clenched where they had been restrained, the pain had seemed to tenfold with every inch that the duke would put into him.

He had tried to think of Friedrich, had tried to calm himself by telling himself that this was, in a way, no that different from his first time with the man he loved. Oh, it could not have been any more different. While his first time with Friedrich had left him sore, it had not hurt in such a great way and even the pain that had been present then had been covered up by his own arousal and actually pretty much bearable. As Karl Eugen had entered him with a brutal, steady force and solely with a bit of spit as lube, Giacomo had already broken out into sobs. Karl Eugen had cursed something under his breath and had pushed in to the hilt with one last thrust after having grabbed Giacomo‘s hips to pull him back against his movement. He had moaned when his groin had came to rest against the Italian‘s backside, and he had ran both of his hands over Giacomo‘s back until one had eventually came up to grab a fistful of his hair. “God, _Liebling_ , you are so tight for me.”

Later on, Giacomo would realize that Karl Eugen deliberately calling him “ _Liebling_ ” while he... had taken him had ruined the word for him. It had been no one but Friedrich that had called him “Liebling” while he had... A whole new wave of pain had flooded over him, both in body and in mind, when Karl Eugen had began to move properly, pulling out until just the very tip of his cock had remained inside of Giacomo before he had pushed back in, settling into a rhythm that had been destined to please no one but himself without any consideration for the wellbeing of the other. It had been more than just rape with the aspirations of satisfying, it had been claiming of one, Giacomo in that case, in the most cruel and primal manner that was known to mankind. He had known, with Karl Eugen still inside of him, that the had been raping him because of how close he had been with Friedrich for there neither could not have been a more tale-telling act of revenge nor a more obvious display of power. “Three days have passed, _Liebling_ ,” Karl Eugen had said, his voice laced with signs of exertion, “three entire days and yet your Friedrich does not seem to care.” He had changed the angle of his thrusts, moaning when Giacomo had clenched around him, not caring that it had been a pained reflex. “My, _Liebling_ , it must be hard on your heart to find out how little you actually matter to him. Is it not?”

Giacomo had been too scared, in a shock that had been too great and in too much pain to do anything but lay there and sob. He would only realize later, much later, how his tears and his broken sobs had encouraged Karl Eugen on in a sick way. It had not taken Karl Eugen more than a few more thrusts before he had came inside of Giacomo, his member pulsing as it spilled his release out. Karl Eugen had stayed inside of him until his cock had softened, him pulling out had been accompanied with a wet and stomach-turning sound, and had taken a few steps back, breathing heavily as he had cleaned himself with a handkerchief. Giacomo had tried to clench his wounded muscle, an action which had merely made his cries get louder, both from the pain and the fact that he did not know whether or not it had been blood or Karl Eugen‘s release that had been dripping down his legs. Karl Eugen had not said a word when he had sat down on the bed beside the man he had degraded in the typical manner of his, and he had put his hand in the small of Giacomo‘s back as he had listened to his cries. Giacomo, whose cheek had long sank down onto the mattess in spite of how painful it was, had held his gaze away from Karl Eugen, staring into empty air as his body had trembled in the aftermath of what had happened.

“Sh, _Liebling_ ,” Karl Eugen had said, not thinking about removing the piece of fabric from around Giacomo‘s wrist as he had began to move his hand in circles over the trembling back, “you will get sick if you do not calm yourself.” Giacomo had lifted his head, blinking slowly as if he had been in a haze. He had not thought about it and he later would not know what it had been, his will to survive it, quite literally, or his wish to show that he had not been broken yet. “Get your hands away from me,” he had whispered over a huff of air but Karl Eugen had catched it nonetheless; and when the duke had forcefully grabbed a fistful of his hair, had pressed his face down into the mattress so hard that he had troubles catching regular breaths and had re-entered him with one swift thrust, had fucked him for so long that Giacomo had wished to have his life ended; he had feared. He he had feared, after the duke had left him crying hysterical and draped over the edge of the bed, that Karl Eugen would eventually break him, would eventually be able to worm his way through him to be able to land a hit at Friedrich, figuratively speaking.

Giacomo forced himself to snap out of his memories by gripping onto the basin so hard it made his hands hurt, his cheast heaving. He did not wipe at the wetness on his face before he eventually straightened a bit and dunked both of his hands into the basin, splashing water onto his face to wash away the tears that had been on it. Was he ashamed of crying? No, he simply knew that it would do him no good. Was he leading a silent resistance against the obvious manipulation coming from the despot that reigned the dukedom of Württemberg? No. He had been able to keep it upright for the first few days which, in response to his disbehaviour as Karl Eugen had called it, had been the worst days of his life, having been filled with nothing but fear, pain and thirst. He had carved in eventually and had no longer put up a fight when Karl Eugen had come to see and take him. But the scariest part of it all was the fact that Giacomo found himself asking whether or not the duke‘s words could be true. Friedrich... had, from what he knew, not done anything to find and free him. _“I am sorry, Liebling,” Karl Eugen had said when he had came to pay him a visit, his hands had already worked on the fly of his trousers before the door had even fallen close, “the king of Prussia yet has to react. It has been a week, Liebling, and it is your life that is at risk. It does seem that he... simply does not care enough about you.”_

He limped out of the bathroom and back towards the bed, trying not to wince as he climbed onto it and layed down onto his stomach, crossing his arms and resting his cheek on them. His eyes fluttered close, he wished that he would be able to stop the tears from rising but he knew that it was to no avail and when a sob did escape him, he quickly turned his face into the crook of his arm. No, Giacomo no longer cried, flinched or felt sick when Karl Eugen would force himself upon him. It did not mean that he was not wounded every time it happened.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

“Sire?” The chambermaid silently closed the door behind her before she slowly made her way over to where the man was resting on the bed, her hands clutching at the apron that was tied around her waist. When no answer came, she asked again and when she did reach the man‘s bedside, she squatted down so her and the sleeping man‘s face were at the same level. “Sire,” the chambermaid gently shook him by the shoulder, “please wake, it is most urgent.” Giacomo groaned when he felt himself being pulled from the sleep he thought to just have catched, but startled awake and his heart jumped in fear of it being Karl Eugen that was touching him. But once he had raised onto his elbows and stared at the woman‘s face, breathing heavily, his heart slowly calmed in its racing. “You are Monsieur Casanova, are you not?” Giacomo did not know what he had expected, but the chambermaid retrieving a pen and a piece of paper from underneath her apron had not been it. He continued to look at her face, not the pen that was then offered for him to. “How do you know,” Giacomo whispered, he knew that his papers had most likely been destroyed during the raid and since he had not been allowed to leave the room... “Do you know what happened to you, Sire? Are you aware how long His Grace has kept you as an unjustified prisoner for?”

He sank back down onto the mattress, paying no mind to neither the writing utensils nor the chambermaid. “What does it matter,” he eventually answered and the chambermaid had swallowed at the flat tone of his voice. She had not expected him to be as broken as he appeared to be, for him to sound as if he had given up himself entirely and while she did not need to use much of her imagination to figure out what the duke of Württemberg had most likely done to him, the chambermaid would rather not like to know it down to the tiny details. “It does matter, Sire, do...” She could resisted the urge to slap her own forehead. No, of course he did not know, she should have known that Karl Eugen, in all his glory, would not be stupid enough to tell Monsieur Casanova about it. “The king of Prussia himself has filed a missing person‘s report to find you, Sire, he is also offering a reward, a fortune really, to whoever tells him of your whereabouts.” Giacomo snorted, humorlessly and disdainfully, but when he blinked again, his vision had gone blurry. “Oh yes I am very sure that he has done all those things.” “Sire,” the chambermaid‘s voice dropped further, and she lifted the pen and the piece of paper as she spoke, “do write something, anything and I will pass it on. His Grace... he will not release you out of the goodness of his heart.”

Giacomo raised onto his elbows once more, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand, “You are risking your head for me? Why?” “While we are all suffering under His Grace‘s hand,” the chambermaid answered, still holding the pen and the piece of paper, “it is you that is suffering the most, Sire. Let me help you.” He hesitated for a few more moments before he carved in with a sigh and took the pen from her hand, but once he was holding it he found his mind to be completely blank. What should he write? What could he possibly write that was so important that it should be brought onto paper then? The chambermaid seemed to notice his hesitation, that he was a bit overwhelmed, as she spoke, “It does not matter what you are going to write as long as it is something that can be assigned to you, Sire.” Looking at the blank piece of paper Giacomo blinked hard as he sat the pen down and scribbled with an unsteady hand, the words messy and some of the ink smudged “ _I do understand because I would choose the good of my country over myself, too_ ” “Is there nothing more that you wish to let His Majesty know, Sire?” Giacomo‘s mouth closed after it had opened as he had wanted to answer, but he found his tongue unwilling to obey his head. He would have liked to believe the chambermaid‘s words, would have liked to believe that Friedrich had indeed done all those things for him, but he... could not.

Hope burned bright in his chest at the possibility that they were true, could be true, but his mind had quickly extinguished the fire. His mind had been devided into two parts for some time; one part that took all the hits, insults and brutalities that Karl Eugen brought upon him, that would continue to take them and represented the opinion that there was no help coming. The other part of his mind, which had remained unscarred, was way more smaller, weaker and nothing but a shadow of the person that Giacomo had been before. Though small, it would flare up ever now and then, would make hope burn in his chest and would let his dreams be filled with memories of the carefree and happy times that he had experienced with Friedrich. Even if he would dream of nothing but the two of them lying in bed, their fingers interlocked and their legs intertwined. Friedrich‘s voice was always warm when it would wash over him in a smooth, but unintelligible flow of words, and every time Giacomo would experience the dream he was sure that he was able to feel Friedrich‘s steady heartbeat from where his head was resting on the other‘s chest.

“Sire?” “No,” Giacomo brought out, clearing his throat as he gave both the pen and the scribbled-on piece of paper back to the chambermaid. “Would that... be all? I am tired and I would like to sleep a bit more before... His Grace is going to gift me with his presence again.” He did not wait for an answer before he layed back down and hid his face in his then crossed arms. There was no need for the chambermaid to see his silent tears, he already hated himself enough for not being able to surpress them. He did not need any further humiliation. The chambermaid, however, would have liked to say something, anything really, to provide the poor man with some comfort but she did not know what she could say without upsetting him more than he so obviously already was. Suddenly remembering just where she was, she quickly rose to her feet, folded the piece of paper and stashed both it and the paper back underneath her apron, patting at it once as if to make sure that it was safe, before she hurried towards the door. She did hesitate, however, after her hand had already rested on the knob, and turned around to look at him, her grip on the knob tightening as she saw how his shoulders were trembling. “Do stay strong, Sire. His Grace will not be able to hold you as a prisoner forever and once you are free... you could change something, Sire.”

The chambermaid did not know if the silently crying man had heard her, but she got the feeling that there was not too much time left before the situation could turn dangerous for her, and probably him, too, so she left and locked the door behind her. She wiped her sweaty palms at the apron as she looked around in the empty corridor and tried to decide which way to go, eventually deciding to take a turn to the left; if the duke was to return she would be speared of crossing paths with him in that part of the palace‘s wing.

As soon as the chambermaid had left the room Giacomo had pulled the nearest pillow he could have reached close to him, had wrapped his arms around it and had pressed his face in so hard that the fabric and the feathers soaked up his tears before they would even leave his eyes. He did not know where the sobs were coming from and neither did he know why he had failed to keep them down, as stopping himself from crying out had become somewhat of an art that he had mastered over his time... there. Giacomo hoped and prayed that Karl Eugen would not return in the near future, while the duke liked, downright enjoyed to see his tears and to listen to his cries he only did so when he was the one responsible for them, while he was beating or raping him. If Giacomo would show the nerve to cry at any other occasion, Karl Eugen would make sure that “he had something worth crying about”. He tightened his arms around the pillow as his sobs grew more desperate, tightened them so that they began to hurt; he could not to this any longer, he could not longer endure Karl Eugen forcing himself upon him, asking wuestions about Friedrich while his hand on Giacomo‘s throat hardened its hold every time the Italian‘s honest answer of “I do not know, Your Grace” would be spoken.

_He had coughed, or had tried to do so at least, when Karl Eugen‘s fingers had cut off his air flow, his hands scrambling at the duke‘s. “I asked you a question, Liebling, and I expect you to answer with honesty.” Twin streaks of tears had been leaving the corners of his eyes and the blood rushing in his ears had almost been loud enough to overtune Karl Eugen‘s words, his lungs had burned from the dire need for air. “I...” Karl Eugen had losened his hold, somewhat, enough for the Italian to draw in a rasped breath, “IdonotknowI - IpromisethatIdonotknow,” Giacomo had hasted, stumbling over his words which had only been separated by a cough._

Giacomo breathed in deeply, held it in his lungs and exhaled it slowly to calm himself, rougly wiping at the wetness on his face with both of his hands after his cries had subsided. His breathing was still labored as he sat on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling over it. No, he could no longer do... _this_ anymore. The chambermaid‘s words and even her presence practically forgotten, Giacomo heaved himself onto his feet and he stood in the middle of the room, almost haphazardly, for a few long moments before he shambled over to the window from which he would be able to overlook the gardens. It was strange, really, that he was so close and yet so far away from the people that would saunter below him, going on and about with their day. Did they know that he was kept in captivity on the highest floor of the palace, that he was not allowed to leave the room? He was startled by the shudder that went through him and even though he knew that the window had been jamed up and could not be opened for more that it already was, just enough to let in fresh air, Giacomo still reached for the handle of the window and tried to turn it.

If he would have been able to open it, would he dare to climb out and onto the windowsill? Would he dare to climb out to get the mere taste of freedom again, even if it would only last for a few seconds? Now that Giacomo was standing there with puffy eyes and a split lip from where he had bit bloody during Karl Eugen‘s last visit, death suddenly did not seem to be such a bad alternative. No, it really did not. He sighed, his fingers slowly letting go of the window‘s handle. It was useless, he knew that he would never be able to get away from Karl Eugen, especially not on his own, knew that he would not be released until the duke of Württemberg would get what he wanted to have. Giacomo knew that Friedrich, if being forced to chose between the good of Prussia and the good of him, a mere Italian nobleman and king‘s whore, would chose the good of his country and Giacomo, somehow, was at ease with it. He could not blame Friedrich... He did, however, wince when he could hear the key being turned in its lock, he either must have lost track of time completely or he had been standing in front of the window for longer than he had realized because he had been sure that Karl Eugen had told him that he would come and pay a visit to him in the evening.

“Good day, _Liebling_ ,” Karl Eugen almost chirped, his voice high and light in the most bone-chilling way, working on the buttons on one of his blouse‘s sleeves as he looked at Giacomo with one arched eyebrow cocked, “how have you been?” Giacomo swallowed before he turned arount to face him, hoping that his eyes had since lost the most of their redness. “I have been... good, Your Grace.” “Just like I had thought,” Karl Eugen smirked and Giacomo was able to heart the blood rushing in his ears when he saw that the duke rolled up the sleeve he had been working on before he started to work on the buttons of the other. _No no no no not again, no no no_ \- “Come here, _Liebling_.” He was beckoned over with one hand and Giacomo obeyed to Karl Eugen‘s motion, of course he did, and he walked until he stood in front of the duke of Württemberg. While Karl Eugen was bigger than him, he was only so by a head, he always did seem to be much taller when Giacomo stood in front of him, almost like a humanization of imminent doom. Which he, in a way, was to the Italian.

Karl Eugen put two fingers underneath Giacomo‘s chin, like he did so often, and used them to raise the other‘s chin until Giacomo was forced to meet his gaze and when Karl Eugen‘s eyes narrowed minimally, Giacomo was ready to burst into tears once more. He could no longer endure it. “For a man you truly are a beauty,” Karl Eugen spoke as he ghosted the pad of his thumb over the wound on the Italian‘s lower lip, “I am glad that I will finally be able to show you off tonight, _Liebling_.” Giacomo gasped, silently so, his pulse steadily increasing as he whispered, “I... do not understand, Y-Your Grace.” The duke chuckled and bend down to haste a kiss against one of his cheeks, an action which made Giacomo flinch without him being able to stop himself from doing it; God he was so scared. “I thought that I had already told you, _Liebling_ , but it appears that I was mistaken. I must have forgotten. There is a dinner party tonight, _Liebling_. And you,” Karl Eugen tilted Giacomo‘s head back even further, making the the slight curve of his neck appear almost obscene, “will be my guest of honor.” Giacomo did not know what Karl Eugen meant by him being “his guest of honor”, but he feared, no, he knew that it could do a good thing. He did not ask any further question and merely swallowed as he allowed - ha, as if he had any other choice - and endured Karl Eugen inspecting his face, only doing so much as to bite his lip that was already encrusted with blood when he was grabbed and turned around.

The duke‘s hand was hard and demaning as it groped at Giacomo‘s backside, squeezing at the taunt globes as if he was the only one that had the right do to so which, in his eyes, Karl Eugen probably believed he had. “There is nothing that I would like to do more than to take your tight little hole right now, _Liebling_ , take it long and hard and for so long that you will not be able to cry anything but my name over and over again,” Karl Eugen breathed right into his ear and Giacomo felt, together with the duke‘s errection, the sort of numbing calmness settle into him which indicated that the scarred part of him, the part that no longer cared whether he would live or die, was once again taking over him. “It just blows my mind how you are still so tight after all those times that I fucked you, _Liebling_ , still so amazingly tight around my cock.” Karl Eugen‘s voice dropped lower after he had nibbled at the lobe of Giacomo‘s ear, “Tight like a good little whore that is only there for me to enjoy, _Liebling_.” He was talking himself into arousal, Giacomo was able to tell so by the way Karl Eugen‘s breathing apeared labored and he simply stared straight ahead and out of the window as Karl Eugen‘s thumb stroked over his protuding cheekbone while the duke‘s lips moved over the skin of his neck.

 _Endure it, get back into bed, sleep, have the same dream with Friedrich... endure it, get back into bed, sleep..._ “It really is a shame that I cannot do so now, _Liebling_ ,” Karl Eugen eventually said as he stepped away from Giacomo, causing the Italian to let out a breath which he had not even been aware of holding in, his eyes still glassy. He did not move, he simply continued to stand there as he waited for whatever would be the next thing to follow. “I do believe that we should get you cleaned before anyone else is going to see you. Would you care to diagree, _Liebling_?” Giacomo was very well aware that Karl Eugen did not really want an answer so he kept quiet, only whispering a reply when the duke spoke next. “I cannot have you looking like that in public now, can I, _Liebling_?” “No, Your Grace.” He still did not move when he could hear Karl Eugen walk across the room. “Come, _Liebling_.” His eyes stayed close for a second before he slowly turned around, just to see Karl Eugen holding the door open with one hand and holding out the other one as if he wanted Giacomo to take it. “I...” He did not know what he should do and he fidgeted with the fabric of the nightdress as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“I will not ask you again.” Giacomo set into motion without really realizing it and as soon as he was close enough Karl Eugen took him by the wrist and began to drag him along with him, out of the room and down the corridor. They passed a few chambermaids and manservants, neither looking at the duke nor Giacomo and instead to the floor in fear, something that the dragged-behind Italian did not notice. It was the first time that he was outside of the room he had been forced to stay in for every hour of every day without exception, but Giacomo too did not really notice it. Karl Eugen‘s hold on his wrists was rather painful and the prospect of what him being “the guest of honor” could mean took up most of his attentiveness and his stomach churned when the mental image of him being forced to bend over a table, naked, while Karl Eugen and his friends stood in a line being him waiting for their turn to - he would chose death over it, he would take a knife and cut his own throat before he would... “You are very stiff today, _Liebling_ ,” Karl Eugen commented as he somewhat gently pushed Giacomo into a room with a hand in the small of his back, and the Italian soon recognized it as a bathroom which was equipped with a tub and thus much larger than the one of... his room.

“I apologize, Your Grace.” Giacomo‘s voice had been a whisper almost for as long as he could remember, he actually did not when he had last spoken while using his normal voice, he simply did not dare to raise it even to a normal volume, fearing that it would be enough to concentrate Karl Eugen‘s anger on him yet again. A hummed “hm” was all Karl Eugen let out as he started to pull the nightdress off over Giacomo‘s head, putting both of his hands onto the Italian‘s hips and using the hold to guide him over to the tub which had been filled with slightly steaming water. “Get in _Liebling_ , we need to get you respectable for tonight.” Giacomo could not stand it, the fact that Karl Eugen could be so gentle, for his standarts that is, and that his voice could be so soft; it was wrong, utterly wrong that he wished thet he could experience such gentleness more often... The luke warm water of the bath soothened the ache in his muscles and his nethers and Giacomo did not think that he had ever so greatful for a bath in his entire life. He had felt dirty before and he did feel dirty after his body had submerged under the water, the dirt that was on him was not one that could simply be scrubbed away, even if he would have rubbed his skin raw.

Karl Eugen, as if it was natural, picked up a washing cloth, soaked and wrung it in the water before he began to wash Giacomo, probably not as gentle as he could have done it but it yet was the most gentle thing that was done to the Italian in... weeks? He did not really now, he had stopped counting the rises of the sun some time ago; it had been too depressing. Giacomo closed his eyes when Karl Eugen moved the cloth over his face, washing off the stickiness of dried tears from his cheek and the dried blood from his lip. “I cannot have you looking like that,” Karl Eugen spoke, “not when you are still important for me.” What if I am no longer important, the question was practically laying on his tongue already but Giacomo swallowed it back down. “M-may I a-ask you a question, Your Grace,” he whispered instead; the hand that had been moving the cloth stilled and if he would have had his eyes open Giacomo would have seen how one of Karl Eugen‘s eyebrows had been raised in a high arch. “You may, _Liebling_.” “What is the date of the day, Your Grace?” Karl Eugen‘s eyes roamed over the Italian‘s face, “Today would be the first day of July.” Just six more days, six tiny more days and he and Friedrich would... _No_ , his mind interfered in its own train of thought, _do not think about him now that there is no pillow for your cries to drown in_. “Thank you, Your Grace.” Karl Eugen only made the same humming “hm” again as he went on with his task of cleaning Giacomo, who just hoped and wished that the evening would be over fast.

_Endure it, get back into bed, sleep, have the same dream about Friedrich..._

Once he had been bathed, his hair had been re-done in a braid and he had been dressed in an attire that Karl Eugen must had purchased for him, Giacomo, to his utter disbelieve, was allowed to spend the rest of the day until it would be time for the dinner party out in the garden. “The garden?” “Yes, _Liebling_ ,” Karl Eugen had said with an obviously pleased smirk on his face, he never made a secret out of how much he enjoyed to have the Italian downright trembling from fear in front of him. It was too good of a sight. “I do believe that you should catch some color, _Liebling_ , you do look unhealthily pale.” _It is no wonder that I am, I have been forced to stay inside for a good month and a half_ , Giacomo had thought but, of course, had not dared to speak it out. So he had been allowed to go down into the gardens with the order to find himself a bench in the sun and to stay sitting down on it, and had been sitting on the bench since he had been ordered to do so. For how long he was sitting there he did not know, but he thought to see the shadows growing longer. He had found a bench in front of a small water fountain and had been sitting on it with a straight back, his hands squeezed together and his eyes firmly fixed straight ahead, a thin film of tears making them appear a bit less dull.

It had slowly began to sank into him then that he had been in the open once more; when he had been able to feel the wind in his hair and the warmth of the sun on his skin, had been able to hear the chirps of the birds and the ripple of the water Giacomo had began to realize just how much he had lost and just how much had been taken from him. His mind had strayed back over to Friedrich and while the memories with him had been a source of comfort they had been a source for an immense pain, too. What if... Friedrich had really casted him aside for the sake of Prussia? What if he would have to stay... here? He had felt a sudden urge to jump up and run rising inside his chest, but his legs never would have obeyed him as if they had been the only part of Giacomo that had known what would happen to him if he would dare to attempt an escape. Karl Eugen would not gift him with the sweet release of death, of that he had been sure. Giacomo had shifted his eyes up towards the sky, had allowed them to follow a couple of birds that were flying above him and he had only noticed the inexorably rising tears when the first one found its way down his face. He had quickly wiped it away, what he would have given to see Friedrich just one more time... Oh and Philippe, too, he would have liked to see his friend again. Giacomo had wondered whether or not the frenchman had been aware of what had happened to him.

He missed his old life and his tears had not cease when he had to tell himself that he would never, ever get it back. Even if he would eventually be released someday, if he would be free, how on earth should he be able to forget all that had happened and would continue to happen to him in Stuttgart. How could he be comfortable with Friedrich calling him “ _Liebling_ ” again, how could he let anyone touch him again, how should he be able to be a respectable member of society if his dignity and honor were taken from him day after day after day.

Giacomo had closed his eyes as he had allowed the the light of the sun to warm his face, he had been so focused on feeling its warmth that he had not hear how someone had stepped behind him. He thus had flinched when a pair of hands had came to rest upon his shoulders, squeezing hard to get his attention, and a voice had suddenly been at his ear, “Come, _Liebling_ , you have been sitting out here long enough. Stand up, _Liebling_.” No not nearly long enough oh please do not take me inside, Giacomo would have liked to retort, but he, of course, had not do so; he had only kept his eyes on the bright blue of the summer afternoon‘s sky as he had stood up and moved around the bench. Karl Eugenhad looked him up and down before he had reached out to brush a strand of hair from Giacomo‘s face, a gesture that would have been adequate between a pair of lovers, maybe between two close friends, but it was not right if it happened between a king and his prisoner. Karl Eugen had not seem to care, or to notice, how absurd it had been as he then had stroked the Italian‘s cheek with the back of his fingers. If he had noticed how Giacomo trembled underneath his touch, he had not pay it any mind. “Tonight it will decide whether or not you will continue to be of use for me, _Liebling_ ,” Karl Eugen had spoken, his fingers still stroking the other‘s cheek, “and I do hope, for your sake that is, that it will turn out in a positive way.” Giacomo had swallowed and his eyes had slowly moved upwards until they had met Karl Eugen‘s gaze. _Maybe him being the guest of honor did mean nothing but... him being the guest of honor?_ Karl Eugen had smirked in his usual cold way as if the spark of hope that had lit up inside the Italian had been visible behind his eyes.

“Now, do not get your hopes up too high, _Liebling_ , it does make me feel like a bad person. It is not so horrible stay with me, is it, Liebling?” “Of course it is not, Your Grace,” Giacomo had answered with an emotionless voice and Karl Eugen had stroked his cheek one more time before he had lowered his hand. “Not only does it make me feel like a bad person, no, you have been a guest of mine for almost six weeks and the king of Prussia yet has to show any reaction, Liebling. But I am sure that you are already aware of that, are you not?” The flame had been extinguished just as fast as it had lit up and Giacomo had silently cursed himself as he had thought to feel the same painful grip on his heart which had been there the first time that Karl Eugen had told him of Friedrich... yes, discarding him. It would be useless to lie, it was only natural that it had still hurt him. He had loved him still, would continue to love him. “I am... aware of that, Your Grace.” “I am... aware of that, Your Grace.” “A nice little whore and a quick learner... my, Liebling, one could easily get the impression that you are very hard to please me.” “A good little whore and a quick learner - my, _Liebling_ , one could get the impression that you are very hard to please me,” Karl Eugen had chirped rather than spoken and if Giacomo had felt bile rising in his throat at the look on the duke's face, he had tried to ignore it. _He no longer got sick_.

While the afternoon hours had been relatively pleasant the evening hours turned out to make up for the good time, though Giacomo could not have known it as Karl Eugen let him, with a hand in the small of his back, through the garden and back towards the palace until they eventually stood in front of the dining hall‘s entrance door. “I shall be reassured that you already know what is going to happen to you if you do so much as think about embarassing me in there. Am I right, _Liebling_?” “Yes, Your Grace, you are right.” Karl Eugen nodded sharply, “Very good then, _Liebling_ ,” and took hold of Giacomo‘s upper arm with one as he a signal to the guards that stood at each side of the double-winged door who then hurried to move and open it. The duke strode in, his posture as straight as it could have been, downright dragging the trembling Italian behind him like he was nothing but a petulant child. Giacomo‘s pulse almost doubled in speed when he could feel the dozen or so pairs of eyes coming to rest on him and he forced himself to keep his own eyes firmly casted downwards and glued to the ground. He did not know who the guests were, if he happened to know one of them, but he did not want to answer that question by looking up; he embarassment he was experiencing already great enough as it was.

“Tut-tut, _Liebling_ , there is no need for any false and pretended embarassment. It does not suit Friedrich of Prussia‘s whore.” The duke of Württemberg‘s words caused roaring laughter to errode throughout the room and Giacomo flinched when a couple of men banged their fists onto the table, making their glasses and cutlery clink from the sheer force of it, in an obvious agreement to Karl Eugen‘s statement. Karl Eugen grinned, almost from ear to ear, seemingly enjoying the reactions of his guests as he put a hand into the small of Giacomo‘s back and began to force him into walking by increasing the pressure. The Italian stumbled forwards, eyes still casted down he shifted from foot to foot rather helplessly when Karl Eugen took seat at his assigned chair at the head of the dinner table.

“Are you not asking yourself where you are going to sit, _Liebling_?” It, again, was laughter that filled the air of the room, and Giacomo closed his eyes for a moment before he before he answered, knowing that his face would most likely be burning hot and red from embarassment, a blush that he could not hide. “Where... am I going to sit, Your Grace?” Karl Eugen chuckled, leaned back into his chair and spread his legs about as wide as he could have done it without causing the fabric of his trousers to tear, and Giacomo‘s throat dried up from one second to another when he saw how the duke was patting a thigh of his. “You are not going to sit. You are going to kneel like a king‘s whore, _Liebling_ , and you are going to kneel right here between my legs.” His breath hitched in his throat and if the laughter then seemed to came less roared, Giacomo did not realize it. _Endure it, get back into bed, sleep, have the same dream about Friedrich. Endure it..._ Knowing that he had no other realistic option he did move until he was standing at Karl Eugen‘s side, who then pushed the chair back so that Giacomo could stand in between his legs, and slowly sank to his knees, goosebumps breaking out over his back when his joints met with the hard wooden floor. “I want you to put your cheek right here, Liebling,” Karl Eugen went on, then patting the inside of his left thigh and Giacomo did not bother with keeping his eyes open as he obeyed and shuffled closer until he could put his cheek against the hard muscle of the duke‘s inner thigh, if Karl Eugen wished to beat him to death Giacomo would have appreciated it a lot.

He had never been humiliated so badly. Never, not in his entire life and he never would have dreamed about a possible humiliation that would reach such an extend. Karl Eugen burried his left hand in Giacomo‘s unbraided hair and ran it through its length before he cupped his palms against the back of the Italian‘s head, much like one would do it with a lap dog... and just like Friedrich had done it with him. Though when it hand been Friedrich‘s hand on the back of his head Giacomo had not felt fear and nausea, had not wished that his life would just be ended. _Endure it, get back into bed, sleep, have the same dream about Friedrich..._ The fact that his face was forced to rest so incredibly close to Karl Eugen‘s crotch made him feel sick, both physically and mentally and Giacomo kept his eyes close as the duke gave a signal and servants entered the hall, carrying plates of different foods and jugs of wine. He was not only keeping his eyes closed, no, he downright squeezed them shut by then, not caring whether or not it would trigger Karl Eugen‘s anger. He could not do it any longer, could no longer stand being... “Well, my dearest guests, as it seems the country of Italy does not only provide us with good wine,” the duke said after having reached for his glass, raising it, “but with good whores, too. Do you not agree, _Liebling_?”

After Giacomo‘s whispered answer of “I do agree, Your Grace”, the evening moved along rather smoothly. The duke of Württemberg and his friend ate and drank themselves into a happy mood, their laughs growing louder the more wine was passed out. Giacomo kept quiet, his eyes still closed just as Karl Eugen‘s fingers were still moving in small circles on his head. “ _Liebling_ ,” Karl Eugen said and the Italian flinched, quickly opening his eyes and looking up as he was adressed, stopping himself from sighing when he saw that the duke was holding what Giacomo believed to be some sort of dried fruit. Having since grown used to the humiliation of not being allowed to eat with on hands but only when Karl Eugen would feed him, Giacomo opened his mouth and waited for Karl Eugen to put the piece of fruit past his lips. But the duke did not do so, no, he held the fruit a few inches away and stared down at Giacomo with one eyebrow cocked in expectance and the corners of his mouths pulled into a grin. “Come and get it yourself, _Liebling_.” When Giacomo did lean over, however, Karl Eugen quickly pulled the bait further away and snorted, obviously amused with his own attics as he held it close to the Italian‘s lips once more, “Get it yourself, _Liebling_.”

“Well, gorgeous, you really are nothing but a sight of pity.” Giacomo froze, thinking that he knew that voice but no, it could not be. It was impossible. “Long time no see.” Karl Eugen‘s hand disappeared from his head as if he knew that Giacomo wanted to turn his head and the kneeling man did just that, mouth hanging slightly open as he looked back - oh, he knew who that voice belonged to and his eyes met with those of that person in an instand. Maximilien Beaumont, the nobleman he had met in Saint-Cloud. “You?” The frenchman snorted and shook his head, making his ginger-colored curls bounce “They say that late revenge is even sweeter, gorgeous and I fear that their words are right. It is what you deserve,” his mouth tugged into a thin line, “for running your mouth about me.” Giacomo‘s mouth hung open as he stared at the French and he did not need to ask if this had been done with Maximilien‘s help. Of course it was, the knowledge the frenchman had must had been passed on to the duke... “What?” “Look at me, _Liebling_ ,” Karl Eugen snapped and the Italian‘s head whipped back around. “No one will come for your rescue, do you understand? Not Friedrich, not the Emperor and not the pope himself.” "But -"

The chambermaid that had held her ear pressed against the door winced when the sound of skin hitting skin followed by a cry and roaring laughter came through to her, and she straightened her posture when the guard that stood next to her cleared his throat in what he read as impatience. “The opportunity for me to ride out is now or never.” She clenched her jaw, hesitating only for a moment before she reached underneath her apron and passed the folded piece of paper over to him. It was remarkable, really, how they all risked their heads in unison - maybe it was due to them seeing it as a chance to break free from the despotism that they had to suffer on. The guard nodded once before he hid the piece of paper under his breast armor and walked off towards the part of the palace that would lead to the royal stables; leaving the chambermaid standing alone in the corridor and to wonder whether or not this attempt would be in vain.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Out of all the things that Friedrich had not known, the most heartrending thing had been that he had not been able to tell when he had felt more helpless than when he had been standing in his study, mere hours after he had been visited by the Sanxon guards. He most honestly had not known if he had ever felt more helpless, if he had ever been more devastated than when he had been staring at the painting. At Giacomo. The king of Prussia had blinked as fast and as little as possible as he had not wanted to take his eyes off of Giacomo for a split second. No, not Giacomo. Merely his painted features, forever captured in oil-based paint. He had not been crying, not really at least, the tears that had made their way down his face had been those of silence, of pain that had been too great for it to be expressed in a proper way. _It was his fault_ , he had repeated in his head over and over as he had stood, glued to the same spot, arms locked behind his back and his hands squeezed together had enough for his knuckles to stand out in a stark white. _His fault_. He should have known that his Giacomo traveling alone would make the perfect aim for whoever would have wanted to take a hit at him, expecially Karl Eugen of Württemberg. He had known, and the fact that he had done so had been the most devastating fact of them fall.

Friedrich had known, had heard from his valet and from his advisors just what, based on the rumors, Karl Eugen had been planning to do. He had known, and yet he had decided to ignore it. Friedrich had not forgoten how the young duke had acted when he had been send to the court of Friedrich Wilhelm as a youth to prevent any Habsburg influence. Even back then it had been to no one‘s surprise that Karl Eugen and Friedrich Wilhelm had gotten along more than just fine, both had been so alike in character. Wilhelmine had, many years later, written to him that the young duke had been everything that Friedrich Wilhelm had been looking for and Friedrich had carried no doubt about his sister‘s words. He had known and yet Friedrich had decided to keep his mouth shut, had allowed the man he had loved more than his own life to start the journey that had let him directly into doom. And as if that alone would not have been bad enough, they also had failed at their task of finding him, of bringing him home where he had belonged and... where he should be layed to rest. _“I am not going home,” Giacomo whispered as if it was a realization he just had, repeating it once, looking down before meeting Friedrich‘s eyes again. “You are my home, Friedrich. I am not going home.”_ When he had been able to practically hear Giacomo‘s tear-strained voice whisper those words to him just like the Italian had done it a couple of days ago, the king of Prussia had broken down completely and all at once.

He had barely made it over to the chair that had stood behind the writing desk of his study and had downright fallen into it, face burried in his hands as he had sobbed loud enough that anyone passing by on the corridor would have been able to hear him. He had not cared, of course he had not. Why would he have cared about something so trifling when he had lost the most important person in his life. Friedrich had cried out all of his pain, all of his helplessness in the situation and all the shock that had build up behind a dam, a dam which had been broken by the mere memory of Giacomo‘s words. He had leaned over until his elbows had rested on his thighs, his shoulders shaking, and if it had been possible, the swell of tears had grown even stronger when an utterly hearbreaking realization had settled in his chest, had gotten a hold of his heart with an iron and unforgiving hold; the realization that he, most definitely, had lost his Giacomo forever and for good that time. Friedrich and Giacomo... they had been given a second chance by fate after the Italian had came down with the illness at Saint-Cloud. They had been granted another chance and Friedrich had ruined it again, or so he had thought.

Giacomo. His Giacomo, his Liebling, his... Sanssouci. He had lost him. _His fault_. It, again, had been no one‘s but his own fault. The king of Prussia had coughed, that it had sounded unusually wet he had not perceived, and had ran both of his hands over his face in an futile attempt to clean it of the tears. But for those he would wipe away another ones would be waiting to take their place. He had been thrown into a coughing fit, which had both surprised and shaken him so that he had almost hunched over, his throat growing tight as it had seemed as if the coughing would never cease. When it had ebben down as fast as it had came up, however, Friedrich had taken a few moments to breathe in exortion before he had heaved himself up from the chair and had walked over to the window to open it‘s wings up wide, allowing the warm late-spring air to hit him in the face with all its smoothness. His chest had hurted when he had breathed in deeply, if it had been from the coughing or the gaping wound that he had carried there he had not know. The night‘s air had washed past him and into the room and Friedrich had sniffled again whe he had thought about just how much his Giacomo had been excited for the summer to come, how he had always complained about the cold and had praised the warm season as being his favorite, how Giacomo had told him that he had always felt alive the most during those months...

The hour had already turned late so Friedrich had not been able to make out much of the garden below him, the few lanterns that had been put up in its trees had given him so much as a rough idea and yet he had forced his eyes to see something in the darkness. Maybe it has been nothing but a mistake and his Giacomo had somehow made it out of the attack alive and had found his way back to him and had then been wandering around greenness of the gardens that he had enjoyed so much. No. Friedrich had closed his eyes, his hand holding onto the handle of the window as if he had not be able to keep himself upright without it. No, the man he had loved would not simply appear in front of him and greet him with a wave of his hand and one of those smiles, the one of the kind which would be accompanied by dimples and which, out of all the smiles, had been the one that Friedrich had loved to see the most. No, Giacomo would not simply... The king of Prussia had felt the sudden urge to hit something, though the urge had been a reault from the desparation rather than real anger. _They had not even brought him home_. They had not had any luck with finding him, no one had known where Giacomo had fallen, probably gravely injured and in pain. No one had known for how long he had been forced to suffer before death had came for him. Friedrich had drawn in a raspy intake of breath at the same second that his vision had gone blurry again, and his chin had dropped to his chest when he had released it huff of air.

As if the fate of two lovers being torn apart by death had not been bad enough, it also had to result in Giacomo not being brought back to him for the last time. It had been anything but fair, no, there could not have been anything more cruel than for Friedrich to be forced to love on under such circumstances and for Giacomo, for the always loving Giacomo, to have to lose his life in such a brutal way. Friedrich had suddenly remembered just what he had stashed into the pocket of his waistcoat a few hours ago and had reached into said pocket with one shaky hand to pull it out. New, even more painful tears had risen into his eyes and had clamed their way down his cheeks when he had moved the pad of his thumb over the handkerchief, the fabric had, other than Giacomo‘s coat, been spared any contact with the Italian‘s blood, and Friedrich had held it to his face to smell it, having had high hoped that some of his lover‘s smell had attached itself onto it. But, how else could it have been really, his hopes had been crushed; and he had shaken his head, why he had not known, as he had stared back out into the darkness. It had not been too different from the darkness that had clamed his chest the moment he had read the Elector of Saxony‘s letter, though the late-spring air had been much warmed than what the he had felt inside of him.

Friedrich had made sure, before he had secluded himself in his study, that the families of the men which had been killed in the line of duty, on their duty of protecting what had been most important to the king of Prussia, would get notified and presented with a generous compensation for their loss. It had been not fair. Those men would eventually be honored with a burial and a gravestone while his Giacomo... Friedrich‘s chin had began to tremble once more as he simply had to look at his hands and the handkerchief that they had been absentmindedly playing with. A part of him had refused to acknowledge the truth of what he had heard and read, had refused to let the hope that Giacomo might be still alive somewhere, die. Maybe he had been injured, yes, but not so gravely that he had been unable to walk further than the mile radius in which the soldiers had looked for him. Maybe someone had helped him... But Giacomo would have found a way to contact him, he never would have let him think that he was... dead. Friedrich had begun to somewhat argue with himself, only in his mind that it, the two sides of him, each trying to convince the other of its wrongness. _This had happened before_ , one side had said, _you have mourned him while he had been still alive, it had been nothing but a great misunderstanding_. _This is a whole different situation_ , the other side had screamed, overpowering the one that had spoken first, _it is his coat that had been drenched in his blood and there has not been a word from him!_

The arguement inside of his head would have continued if it would not have been for someone knocking at the door of the study, and Friedrich had gasped silently as his head had whipped around to look at said door. He had wiped at his face rather rough and quick, a gesture that had been most unnecessary; if the person on the other side of the door had not heard his sobs they would definitely be able to see his tears. “Who is it,” the king of Prussia had said after he had sat back down behind the desk and had taken a random piece of paper to hand to at least preserve some of his appearance. “It is me, Sire. Your valet.” Friedrich‘s shoulders had dropped again, he had been very much aware of the fact that it would be both useless and unnecessary for him to put on an act for the man who had been in his service for thirty-five years. “You may enter.” He had lowered the piece of paper he had been holding as he had watched how Wilhelm had opened the door, had stepped into the room and hand closed the door behind him quietly. Neither the king nor his valet had spoken a word as latter walked until he had been standing in front of the seated Friedrich. “I am sorry, Sire.” The king had snorted and shaken his head disdainfully, though the way his whole face had seemed to have fallen had not really matched it. The ticking of the grandfather clock had been the only thing that could have been heart in the room as the valet had looked at the king and the king had looked down at his hands. “I do not know what to do, Wilhelm,” Friedrich had eventually said, “I cannot, I... do not know how to be without him.” “If I may say so, Sire, to me it does seem like you to were - are two halves of one piece. Monsieur Casanova cannot be without you either, Sire, but I am sure that you know just that.”

Friedrich had leaned his head back into his neck, his eyes fixed to the ceiling and Wilhelm did wince inwardly when he had seen how the king‘s eyes had gained a tear-fueled shine once more. “You really do love him a lot, Sire, do you not?” “The most,” Friedrich had rasped out, still looking at the ceiling and then shaking his head once, “more than anything else in this world.” The whole situation had not seemed to be real, at least in the king of Prussia‘s eyes, it had been too preposterous and simply unimaginable... how should he accept that he would never see Giacomo again? That he would have nothing left of the painting and the younger man‘s belongings that he had left here, at Sanssouci, because he had thought, had been sure without doubt that he would return? No, Friedrich had not been able to process it as reality, as anything but a horrible nightmare. Had not been able and had not wanted to, either. To imagine that he would be forced to live the rest of his live without Giacomo, his beautiful Giacomo at his side, withouth the younger man‘s warmth next to him when he would be in bed, without hearing his laugh, without - yes, without his sun, without the brightest star of his skies. If he would have to live without him he would chose death over it, Friedrich had lost too much, too many people that he had loved... and it had been due to his own actions more than once.

“You should rest for tonight, Sire,” Wilhelm had spoken, thus pulling Friedrich away from his world of thoughts. “If you wish it, Sire, we can work on a plan of what to do as the first thing tomorrow.” The king of Prussia had moved his face so that he had been able to look at the valet and Wilhelm would have been lying if he would have said that he had been prepared for just how great the lack of life behind the king‘s blue eyes had been. “What is there to do,” Friedrich had spoken and Wilhelm had known that if he had been capable of doing so, that his voice would have been underlined with a snarling undertone, but in that moment it hab been nothing but rough and on edge. “Sire,” he had taken another steps forward so that he had been standing almost pressed against the edge of the king‘s writing desk, “you have heard the guard‘s words yourself. They have searched a mile around the scene of attack and have found nothing but Monsieur Casanova‘s coat and his papers, Sire.” “And what if they have taken him,” Friedrich had snapped, roughly wiping at an unwanted tear, “I think that you do know very well just what they do to those they have captured. So you tell me, Wilhelm, should I be so egoistically, so focused on my own self and wish for his suffering in their hands to be extended? Do you think that I do not wish for him to be alive?” He must not had noticed that his voice had gotten steadily louder, as he had looked confused when Wilhelm had tried to stop him from running into an attack.

“Sire, I would -” The king of Prussia had jumped from the chair he had been sitting in, had planted his palms firmly onto the table top and had leaned over, his face red as he had shouted, “There is nothing I wish more than for Giacomo to be alive, nothing! But he has suffered because of me so many times before that I would rather know him dead than have him suffering due to my foolishness! Again.” Friedrich‘s head had lowered as he had felt the next swell of sobs building up in his chest, “Not again, I cannot have him suffering again.” Wilhelm, who had already opened his mouth to retort something had, had quickly shut it again. It had not taken long for the valet to come up with the question whether or not they should focus the investigation, which had been going on since the king had given the permission, onto the dukedom of Württemberg rather than the Electoral of Saxony, Wilhelm too had gotten his fair share of experiences with the despotic duke Karl Eugen, but given the king‘s state of being the valet had decided to let the question go for the moment. Breathing in deeply Wilhelm had set into motion and had walked around the desk until he had been able to come to Friedrich‘s side and aid. “Allow me to bring you to bed, Sire,” the valet had spoken low and had put a hand between his king‘s trembling shoulders. Friedrich had sighed once, then again, before he had been able to collect enough strenght to straighten himself into an upright position, though his slumped shoulder and casted-down gaze had not made him appear very king-like. “Yes, I should retread to bed,” Friedrich had spokne, head slowly turning until his eyes had fallen upon the painting again.

When they, Giacomo and him, had stood posing for the painting, _Friedrich leaned against a bookshelf in his privat library with his left arm propped up on one of the shelves, his posture relaxed and his head turned as he had looked at Giacomo, whose left hand had been in Friedrich‘s right and whose gaze shifted at the observer_ , neither of the two had known just how close the inevitable doom had been. And to think that Friedrich had believed them to be inseparable.. Wilhelm had watched, had simply watched how Friedrich had stared at the painting and though he would have liked to say that he had known exactly what his king had been going through, he would have been lying if he would have said so. While he and his wife had only been able to see each other on Sundays, due to him standing in the king‘s service, they still had each other and each other only. And his king... Friedrich had not deserved to lose Giacomo too, not after all and everyone that he had lost before. He had deserved the happiness which had came into his life along the Italian, he had deserved Monsieur Casanova, who had loved him back just as much. Friedrich had still been looking at the painting and the wet streaks on his face had till been few with new tears.

Wilhelm had tried to clear his throat in a gentle way to get his attention, but he had needed to do so twice before the king or Prussia had flinched and shifted to look at him. “Wilhelm?” “Yes, Sire.” “I do believe that it is time for me to answer the question of succession as well as to put up my political testament.” The valet had tried not to gape, but he had failed at stopping his eyes from growing wide at the king‘s words. “Sire, you are not... planning to -” “No,” Friedrich had said after a few moments of silence, “it would not be fair to him.” His words had not been a complete lie, as ending his own life had seemed to be the most rational option but... no, Friedrich had known that he could not do it, at least not when there had been the conflict of hope and desperation going on inside of him.

After he had allowed the valet to help him change into his sleeping attire, Friedrich had reluctantly gotten into bed. He had layed down slowly and had frozen as soon as the back of his head had made contact with the pillow, resisting the urse to roll over onto his side like he usually would have done it. Instead, he had kept his eyes glued onto the ceiling with foce, his eyelids eventually fluttering close when he had felt that he had been ready to burst into tears once more. And as if it had been out of the limb‘s own will, his arm had moved so that his hand had been able to grope along the empty space on the bed beside him. As expected, he had not felt anything but cold and empty space. Friedrich had squeezed both his eyes and his lips shut when he had felt his chin starting to tremble again; he had slowly turned onto his side even though he had not really wanted to do so. He had watched how his hand had moved over the mattress, almost as if it had hoped to feel something there, before it had taken hold of the pillow that had been laying next to nix and had pulled it close. Friedrich had closed his eyes once more when he had raised the pillow to his face - and had his face into it as soon as he had been met with the familiar smell. The king of Prussia had rolled back onto his back, the using both of his hands to hold the pillow against his face, breathing in deeply as he had stopped fighting against the tears that been steadily rising into his eyes. Though not very strong, the smell of his beloved Giacomo had definitely been there; a combination of the parfume that the Italian had loved to wear, the soap that he had always used, the oil that Giacomo had combed into his hair every night and a note that had been... just him. It had been Giacomo, his Giacomo. His Liebling, his Sanssouci, his gearwheel, the most beloved part of himself.

 _Having just finished their act, both men had been lying on their backs, their sweat-covered chests heaving under a labored breathing. “Friedrich?” “Yes, Liebling?” A smile had spread out on Friedrich‘s face when Giacomo had shifted closer to him until he had been able to rest his cheek on the older man‘s chest, his fingers absentmindedly roaming over the scarred skin there, and Friedrich‘s heart had summersaulted when he had felt the Italian smile against his skin. “I love you. So much.” “And I love you, my Sanssouci,” Friedrich had whispered, lifting his head in a cumbersome way to be able to haste a kiss into the blond‘s hair. “This... is all I have ever wanted,” Giacomo had went on and the other had tightened his arms around him at the choked-up sound of his voice; it had not taken Friedrich long to get used to the emotions that the younger man would show after the high of his orgasm had passed. “This... You... Friedrich, I do not know if I could ever be without again.”_ Giacomo‘s words and the memory of holding his warm body had broken something inside the king. Pure longing had burned bright in his soul, so bright and hot that it threatened to burn his heart and turn it into ashes. He had longed to hold him one more time, to caress him one more time, to stroke his face and through the length of his soft hair one more time. He would have given everything just to feel Giacomo‘s fingers play with his before their hand would interlock. With his staccato sobs then being muffled by the depths of the pillow, Friedich had curled up onto his side and had eventually found sleep, lulled into it by his own cried and the hope of him being able to see the man he loved in his sleep.

Friedrich had thumped his fist onto the armrest of the chair he had been sitting in when he had been forced to listen to the Saxon ambassador repeat for the dozenth time as for why it would be both unnecessary and “stupid” for the Elector to be the force behind the assault and while the king of Prussia had begun to think just that, too, when he had woke up that morning, hearing it being spoken by another person had made a tension build up inside. If it had not been the Saxon, it only could have been . “I still do stand behind my opinion of it being the duke of Wüttemberg‘s doing, Your Majesty,” a minister had said, shuffling through some files that had been stacked on the table in front of him. Friedrich had not answered, had merely stopped rubbing at his temple to look around those who had assembled at the round table. The ambassador of Saxony had came, Wilhelm, his valet, of course, the ministers of both justice and war as well as two lieutenant colonels from the nearby battalion that had been stationed in Potsdam. “If it is him,” one of the colonels had spoken as he had reached for his glass, “then defeating him will be an easy task that should not claim too many men, Your Majesty. It is known that the army is... suffering under Karl Eugen‘s leadership.” “It indeed is known,” Friedrich had answered, trying not to wince when a bright flash of pain had shot through his temple.

He had not been able to sleep more than a couple of hours, all alone and with his pillow soaked with his tears, and had, on top of that, had bursted into another crying fit before he had powdered himself for the day just because he had noticed the books that Giacomo had left on the nightstand. Friedrich had since returned to rub at the sore spot on his head, closing his eyes for a short moment. All he had wanted was to just... be alone with himself and his memories and if he had noticed how Wilhelm had been eyeing him with obvious worry, he had chosen to ignore it. “We do not have enough prove to start a military action,” the king of Prussia had went on, lowering his hand again. “Court rumors are anything but enough.” Unison “Yes, Your Majesty”s had followed and Friedrich had sighed. With rudiments like this his political hands were bound, he could not risk landing a hit at the dukedom of Württemberg without eventually having to deal with Austria, too, and given the fragile peace that had been installed not even a year ago, Friedrich had, politically speaking, been at wit‘s end. If the person Friedrich, not the king Friedrich II., would have been in charge, the whole thing would have no longer been a matter fo discussion. No, Friedrich would have already been sitting on a horse and leading his troops south-eastwards.

“If I may add something, You Majesty?” “Do go on.” The minister of justice had cleared his throat as he had looked up from what Friedrich had guesses had been his notes, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “There could be a way that you could act, Your Majesty, without violating the guidelines of the Treaty of Hubertusburg.” The king of Prussia had absentmindedly sat up a bit straighter in his chair, his eyes fixed on the minister. “Do continue, please.” “Well,” the minister had cleared his throat again, “if there is so much as vague, but real indications that the duke of Württemberg is indeed responsible for it, as I and many others believe it, Your Majesty, then you would have the ground to act imediately.” “It has to be him,” Friedrich had spoken, holding a balled-up fist to his lips, “I do not see how there coould be anyone else behind it. The French? The Austrians?” The attendees had chuckled, all but the minister had bad been speaking before. “The other important... fact that should be remembered would be that Prussia could get into a conflict with the dukedom of Venice, too, if you do not find out what happened to Monsieur Casanova, Your Majesty.” The laughter at the table had died down as heavy silence had replaced it, and the king of Prussia had lost his posture, had slumped back further into his chair at the minister‘s words; he most honestly had not considered that. _Oh, his poor, poor Giacomo..._ Friedrich had shielded his eyes by pretending to rub at his brow when he, really, had been fighting to keep his composure. It had not been the time to cry, no then, it had not been the time to mourn after Giacomo and the heartrending dream that he had been forced to live through the past night.

_His heart had been racing in his chest as he had been running through the darkness, not knowing where he was running but for the voice that had been calling out his name over and over again, sounding more and more like cries of help. “Friedrich... Friedrich....” “Giacomo!” His lungs had burned as he had continued to run even though he had been utterly exhausted - he had to find him, he would not stop running until he would find him! “Friedrich,” the voice, Giacomo, had sobbed, and Friedrich had felt like crying himself, he had been running for what must had been an eternity so why had he not found him yet? “Friedrich... Friedrich...”_

“Your Majesty?” Friedrich‘s head had snapped back up and he had swallowed when he had been gazed upon by eight pairs of very concerned eyes. He had cleared his throat, “Yes, I apologize.” The next person that had been speaking had been Wilhelm, his valet. “We shall not forget that if the duke of Württemberg pulled the strings that it would mean for there to be someone at your court who is passing on confidential information, Sire. We should start by making a list of those who were involved in the planning of the route that Monsieur Casanova was taking and of those who were not involved but knew of it. I am sure, Sire, that the head of security and his men will be most eager to work it off one by one.” “If you would excuse my impudence, Sire, but are you implying that there is a traitor in our rows?” Low murmurs had filled the air at the possibility of the... _situation_ eventually turning into a whole scandal, murmurs of who could have passed such information on for money, for power or for glory, but Friedrich had not been in the mood to hear those murmurs, neither with his buzzing headache nor with the throbbing pain in his heart. The king of Prussia had banged his balled-up fist onto the table, making the glasses clirr and the voices go quiet.

“Wilhelm.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“We shall start with the list right away. The meeting is dismissed.” Friedrich had kept his eyes shielded as the ambassador, the ministers and the lieutenant colonels hurried to collect their things and clear the room, and had not taken his hand away as it had only been him and the valet. “Sire -” He had waved him off with his free hand, had not neither wanted to hear a word nor to be reminded of it. Wilhelm had understood, of course he had, and had sat next to his king in silence, not commenting when he had believed to have heard a silent sob emerge from underneath the hands that Friedrich had held to his face. _"Friedrich..."_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Five weeks. It had taken them five, almost six weeks, to find out where Giacomo had been held captive and Friedrich... he had not known how he had managed to get through those weeks. After he and the valet had set up the list of those who had been involved in the planing and of those who had known, even just rudimentarily so, where the group around the Italian would have made halt and about the route that they would have taken, it had not taken long for the head of security to present the king of Prussia with the results of the investigation which he and his men had collected. It had been one of the king‘s advisors who had foolishly blathered while being in the company of a whore. The advisor, an elderly nobleman, had been stripped of his titles, his fortunes and his estates, of course, as they had all been an achievement of him standing in the king‘s service.

The more days that had passed and the more nights that Friedrich had been forced to torture himself through, the worse he had became. He had slept decreasingly less and less, not being capable of going through the same dream over and over again; it would always be him, and his lungs would always be burning when he would run through the darkness, directed by Giacomo‘s voice that would whisper, cry and eventually yell nothing but Friedrich‘s name. It had happened more than a dozen times, surely, that Friedrich would startle awake from the nightmare, the fabric of his nightshirt sticking to his sweat-covered chest and Wilhelm, his valet, standing at his bedside, already holding a bowl of cold water and a cloth in his hands. “You could have been heard down the corridor, Sire,” the valet would say as he would put the bowl down onto the nightstand to soak the cloth in is content. Friedrich would pull the nightshirt off over his head and would carelessy discard it somewhere onto the floor before he would lie back down, breathing heavily, his eyes hooded from exhaustion and the realization that he, again, had not been able to run long enough and that he had failed to finally reach the man that would call out his name every night anew. “Are there any news about Giacomo,” the king of Prussia would ask with a whisper while he would watching how the valet would move the soothing cloth over his face, his neck and his chest to wipe off the sweat. “Have they found him,” Friedrich would ask every time, not caring how desperate it must sound. “No, Sire,” Wilhelm would answer, and his answer would not change ove the course of many nights and many weeks. It would always be an answer of “No, Sire, they yet have to find him, I apologize”, followed by an explaination that the king‘s men had been as had as they could have done.

And Friedrich... yes, Friedrich had felt his own self breaking more and more every time he would wake up to a cold and empty bed; so he had eventually stopped retreating to bed completely. Of course he had done so because, really, what else could he have done? How could he have stayed in the rooms in which corner he had thought to practically see Giacomo‘s shadows? The rooms where his books, his clothes and his other belongings had still been waiting for him? No, Friedrich had not been able to endure it and if a manservant would have dared to try and move Giacomo‘s books, to be able to clean off the dust, the king of Prussia would snarl at them to get their godforsaken fingers away from them. He would seclude himself in the four walls of his study, would only attend those audiences which he could in no way forgo before he would isolate himself again. If one had wanted to hear his daily flute concert they would have been disappointed, as Friedrich had stopped giving them the day that he had been notified of the attack. The king of Prussia would spend entire nights seated behind the desk of his study and would force himself to work even if his hand had long tired or his eyes would have struggles staying focused on the written words in front of him from fatigue. He had known, had always known, that work would be the only thing that could take his mind off the immense grief and desperation that had been eating away at him; and yet Friedrich had found himself looking at the painting that had hung at the opposite wall without even realizing it. He just had to look, it had been a longing which had been too great for Friedrich to surpress, and he would often sit in utter silence, his arms weakly resting in his lap and tears running freely.

He had not cared if there had been rumors about the quiet king that would do nothing but hide in his study. No, Friedrich had not cared, how could he have cared about such trivialities as rumors when he had been forced to linger in the uncertainty of whether or not Giacomo had still been alive, of whether he had been suffering or not, whether he had been hungry or thirsty or not. The king of Prussia had eaten the bare minimum, had spoken even less and had spoken even less and the weeks had passed and they till had no solid evidence that Karl Eugen of Württemberg had stood behind it, had no proofs beside their own opinions and the many, countless rumors. There had been no claims for ransom or any other requirements that should be needed to fullfilled before Giacomo would be released again and it had been enough for Friedrich to, then, also doubt the possibility that Karl Eugen would allow him to stay alive for so long, and even if... Friedrich had always felt sick, both physically and mentally, when there had been unwanted images popping up in his mind; images of Giacomo, chained to a dungeon‘s wall, emaciated and freezing. He had not needed to question whether Giacomo would be scared or not... of course he would be, and when Friedrich would stand from his desk, in the late of the night, to stretch his legs somewhat and would walk over to the window, he would often look at the moon and wonder if his Giacomo had been able to look at it, too.

Giacomo and him - they had not known each other for long, compared to the thirty-three years that Friedrich had been forced to live without someone in his life who he could have loved and who could love him back, but in the time in which Friedrich had known the Italian, he had grown to love him way beyond the stage of the crush that had been there initially, a crush that had came up after he had, quite literally, brought the blond to his knees during the audience. Friedrich had given his heart away, and he had realized it when Giacomo had still been there with him, he had realized it especially in those moments that he had spend watching the younger man sleep. When he had gently carded his finger through the softness of the blond‘s hair and had whispered sweet words of love which had, every now and then, earned him soft hums of agreement when Giacomo had not been fully asleep yet. Yes, those had been the moments in which Friedrich‘s heart had been about to jump out of his chest, so full with affection and love as it had been. Oh, but that love had still been there in his heart, then, when he had stood in front of the window, for how long had not known, and had stared at the moon with wide and burning eyes, almost non-blinking and as if there would be anything coming from it. The moon had never given him an answer to his many questions; there had never been answers, just more questions and further accusations. He should have prevented it from happening, he should have prevented it from happening. He should have said something, he should have forbade Giacomo to leave, he should have just closed the gates of his palace so that the carriage carrying the man he loved could not have left. Giacomo, his always loving Giacomo would have been mad, furious even and probably would have slept with his back turned towards Friedrich for a few nights... but he would have stayed there, in Potsdam, and in safety with the king of Prussia at his side.

For Wilhelm, the king‘s first valet, the hardest part of it all had been to be forced to realize that he had been able to do nothing but stand by and watch as the king had gotten worse and worse with seemingly every hour that had passed, with every day that Friedrich would spend with the incertitude of what had happened to Monsieur Casanova. It had downright pained the valet when he would bring a plate, stacked with food, up into the king‘s study, who had long stopped attending his own meals, and would be forced to take it back into the kitchens, hours later, with no more than one of two tiny pieces gone. “You should eat more, Sire,” he would comment when he would enter the study, trying not to stare at Friedrich, who often would not have moved from the position that he had taken hours ago, slumped in his chair with his hands resting in his lap. If the king of Prussia‘s gaze could have produced heat, the oil painting hanging on the wall opposite to the writing desk would have been nothing more than a handful of ash. “I am not hungry,” was all that Friedrich would answer, not even doing so much as thinking about taking his eyes off the painting. Wilhelm could not have known that Friedrich would replay all the memories that he had of his Giacomo, no matter how insignificant one would judge them, over and over again, that he had been scared of forgetting a single one. Friedrich would see Giacomo reading, leaned against the headboard. He would see him dozing off in the bathtub, he would see him eat, he would see him sleep. He would see the younger writhing underneath him, he would see his blushed face and his glistering eyes when they had looked up at him... Wilhelm had stopped making the same comment about the king‘s eating habits, but had not stopped to bring him food three times a day, day for day.

Then, the fateful day in the last week of June had came, though it had started off like any other day. Friedrich, who had eventually fallen asleep with his head propped in his arms, which he had crossed on the top of his writing desk, had woken when his face had been hit by a direct beam of sunlight. The king of Prussia had groaned, then winced as he had stretched, a movement that had resulted in a tale-telling crack coming from his spine, before he had stood and walked a couple of steps, stopping in his tracks to be drawn in a spell by the panting and those eyes that had seemed to follow him the whole time, even when he had walked across the room with his head bowed and his gate limped to open the window and allow fresh air to enter. He had breathed in deeply, had tried to ignore the chirping of the birds in the late morning sky and the smell from the flowers below him, which both had been almost mocking him in the procedural situation that he had been in. And just like any other day, Giacomo had been the first thing on Friedrich‘s mind after it had been the last thing on it when he had found an uneasy sleep at early dawn. Friedrich, he would have given everything to just have him back in his life. His heart had ached worse with every new rising and setting of the sun, as it did only do so much as to show him how much time had passed since he had last seen him.

As the valet had been very much aware of the fact that his presence had not been in the favor of his king, even if that had happened to be his intent, he would rather walk up and down the corridor in front of Friedrich‘s study to at least prevent any inquisitive courtiers to creep around and catch anything that they would spread out in a twisted way, thus possibly resulting in a bad light being projected onto the king. Just when Wilhelm had turned at the far end of the corridor and had been about to walk back over towards the grande escalier, he had watched howa rather nervous looking man had appeared standing in front of the king‘s study‘s door, hand already raised in order to knock but at last long probably not daring to do so. The valet had been able to see right away that the stranger had been dressen in simple, but noble leather travel attire and yet it had not been something that could be seen in this wing of the palace instead of the courtyard. He had cleared his throat in order to get his attention, “Excuse me,” he had called out, his brows narrowing slightly when the foreign man had flinched and whirtled around to look at him. Wilhelm had only then noticed that the man, in reality, had been rather young and probably closer to the age of a boy rather than a man. “May I help you, young lad?” “I... need to speak to His Majesty, Sire,” the boy had spoken and it had been only when the valet had roamed his eyes over him once more, to see if he could make out any disguised weapons, that he had seen the envelope which the strangers had been clutching in his hand. Wilhelm had cocked an eyebrow in surprise, “Even if His Majesty would be free, young lad, you could not just go about an disturb him in his privat study.”

The young man had blushed, obviously embarassed by being scolded much like a child, and almost as if he had not considered what Wilhelm had said to be an option. “I... apologize, Sire,” he had said after clearing his throat, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he had obviously been struggling with himself. “There is... something I have been ordered to deliver to His Majesty, Sire. To His Majesty personally.” The other of Wilhelm‘s eyebrows had shot up to meet with those already near his hairline, too, if there had been news of such a great importancy the sender could have just send it with a regular courier instead of a boy. “I am His Majesty‘s first valet, you shall be reassured that the letter will be safe, secure and passed to His Majesty if you do give it to me, young lad.” “Oh, o-okay,” the young stranger held the letter out for Wilhelm to take it and as soon as the valet had gotten a hold of the envelope, the boy had turned on the heels of his boots and had downright dashed down the corridor and towards the stairs. If Wilhelm would have said that he had not been a bit perplexed by the turn of events, he would have been lying, but the thoughts that he had had about it had dissolved when he had turned the envelope around, recognizing the seal in an instant. Since it had been his duty as the king‘s first valet, Wilhelm had not wasted any more time before he had carefully removed the wax seal to be able to pull the folded piece of paper out of the envelope, unfolding it with his heart beating a jackhammer‘s beat against his rips. It could not be... _“I cannot write who I am as I would risk to lose my head, but I am writing to inform His Majesty that one Giacomo Casanova has been captured by men which had been payed by Karl Eugen of Württemberg. The duke has incarcerated him in one of his privat rooms in the palace of Stuttgart [...] I myself have witnessed how he has forced himself upon the Sire at least once [...]”_ Yes, it could be.

Wilhelm had not thought about it twice beofre he had lunged forward, had knocked at the door of the king‘s study once and had not awaited an answer before he had opened and closed said door in a quick succession. The valet had not know whether of not he had been surprised to see Friedrich standing at the window which had been opened rather than seated behind the writing desk. “What is it now,” Friedrich had spoken with an exhausted sigh, not turning from where he had been looking at, even if it had not been anything in particular. “If you have come with food you do not need to leave it here. I do not have the appetite for it.” Wilhelm had hesitated, unsure how he should bring the... news over to the king. “A letter has just been delivered, Sire,” he had eventually brough out and had taken a few steps into Friedrich‘s direction, unsure whether or not the king would want him to do so. The only answer that had followed the valet‘s words had been the contemptuous sound which Friedrich had made, clearly showing his lack of interest. “The letter carries the sign of the Württemberger, Sire.” As soon as Wilhelm had said that the Prussian king had practically whirled around and had looked at him with eyes that had layed deep in their sockets and had been surrounded by dark shadows. “What?” Deciding not to say anything further, the valet had simply held the unfolded piece of paper up and had met Friedrich half-way when the king had walked over towards him to take the letter.

Though once he had been holding it in his hand, Friedrich had hesitated, conflicted between reading and having to acknowledge what it said, even of it would be news of the worst kind. “You should read it, Sire, I shall call in a meeting as soon as you wish for me to do it.” Friedrich had looked at his valet, almost pleadingly, and had eventually forced his eyes away from Wilhelm and onto the letter. He had read it once, had haltered, had downright frozen, then had read it a second time. There had been nausea building up inside of him and he surely would have fainted if it would not have been for the valet‘s hands that had taken a hold of his upper arms, thus keeping him upright on very unsteady legs. “Sire -” “Can it be true...” “I do not have any doubts, Sire. If I had, I would not have brought the letter to you,” Wilhelm had said as he had helped Friedrich to sit down into the chair that had stood behind the writing desk and even as he had been seated, the king of Prussia had looked like he had been ready to faint. The valet had only let go of him to fill a glass from the pitcher that he had put on the desk the prior evening, and when he had offered the glass to Friedrich, the king had taken it without argument. Wilhelm had watched him drink in tiny sips, the starkness of the white on Friedrich‘s face had concerned him greatly. Friedrich had set the glass back down onto the table, had looked at the letter, than at the painting before he had picked up and read the letter once more. If what it said would turn out to be nothing but the truth... he had not known why he had to close his eyes and to turn his head away, almost as if he had wanted to, physically, distance himself from what he had just read.

 _[...] one Giacomo Casanova has been captured by men which had been payed by Karl Eugen of Württemberg [...] I myself have witnessed how he has forced himself upon the Sire at least once [...]._ The images that had appeared in front of his inner eye, build from the knowledge which he had just gained, had been even worse, more heartbreaking and sickening that those of Giacomo being chained to a dungeon‘s wall. That image had been replaced by Giacomo, his poor, poor Giacomo, being trapped underneath Karl Eugen‘s body, crying out in pain when the duke would - oh, Friedrich could have hunched over from the pain in his chest, his mind had added the cries from the nightmare, which hehad gone through a dozen times, over the scene that then had been playing in fron of his inner eye. _“Friedrich... Friedrich... Friedrich!”_ He had been forced to pinch the bridge of his nose at the feeling of tears returning into his eyes. Karl Eugen could not have found a better way to get revenge, oh he never could have found something that would have hurt the king of Prussia as much as being forced to acknowledge that the man he loved had been kidnapped, _violated_ because of his own decisions. Karl Eugen had known, he somehow had known that Giacomo had been the most important person in Friedrich‘s life, that the Italian had been his sun, since others would have targeted the queen or an heir to the throne. But no, Karl Eugen, the most desputic duke in the German lands, had taken his Giacomo. His beautiful, gentle and loving Giacomo and, if the letter had indeed contained the truth, had... A cold shudder had gone through Friedrich at the mere thought of it. _His fault, his fault, his fault._

“Wilhelm, call in the meeting now.” “Now, Sire?” Friedrich had heaved himself onto his feet, heavily leaned onto the edge of the table as his dizziness had threatened to take the best of him. “Yes, right now. We... cannot waste any more valuable time.” The meeting had been assemble in what had been a record worthy time and they had all agreed on how to proceed next just as fast. Friedrich would publish a reward of ten thousand Thalers to whoever could provide him with solid proof of where Giacomo had been held, because as much as the king of Prussia would have marched south-eastwards with the letter in hand right away, as much as it had pained him to have to wait, to have to leave Giacomo vulnerable for the duke to play his sick game, he could only act if he would know for sure where Giacomo could be found. Friedrich could only imagine what Karl Eugen would do if he would get a wind of the whole operation - no, as much as it had pained him, he needed to be sure without a pinch of doubt. It had been his fault, his fault that his Liebling, his Sanssouci, his beloved Giacomo had been in the hands of the duke of Württemberg. _His fault._ How on earth would he ever be able to make up for his mistakes?

The days between the first letter and the second, the final needed proof, had been very different, though not it a good way. Instead of secluding himself in his study Friedrich would wander through the many corridors of his palace, one hand held in the small of his back, heavily leaned onto his cane with the other and with his head held low, burried deeply in his thoughts and the anger which he had developed. Anger at himself and at Karl Eugen for being guileful enough to land such a low hit by taking Giacomo, the one person who had absolutely nothing to do with the decision that Friedrich had made. The anger and helplessness that he had harbored at his own stupidity and the hopeless situation had been larger and, together with the overwhelming gried and heartbreak, had made it downright dangerous for anyone to cross paths with the king of Prussia the wrong way. Friedrich would snarl and bellow, would shout at anyone who he would think of as a thorn in his eyes. The minister of justice, as well as some of the king‘s advisors, had been dismissed and hired half a dozen times over the course of four mere days. Wilhelm had not gone so far as to compare Friedrich‘s behaviour to that of the late Friedrich Wilhelm, though, since the current king of Prussia had never done so much as to raise his fist or his cane to anyone. The valet had also known that Friedrich‘s snarls had not been coming from a maniacal rage, but from desperation. Friedrich still had not been eating or drinking enough, but Wilhelm had known, too, that the king would not do so before they would have luck on their task of freeing Monsieur Casanova.

Being secure in the knowledge that his Giacomo had been forced to stay in Karl Eugen‘s hands for weeks, for over a month, had been what had afficted Friedrich‘s mind the heaviest; he had not wanted to, but he had not been able to stop himself from imagining what the Italian had to go through... all because of him. Once he would have him back he would never let him go again, of that Friedrich had been sure. Never, ever again. He would give up his crown if it would just mean that Giacomo and him could be back together. Giacomo had belonged here, at Sanssouci, where his books and the king or Prussia had been waiting for him still and Friedrich had feared that feared that he would be forced to spend their anniversary alone, aimlessly wandering around his grounds. Friedrich had not known when he had last picked up a book or his flute, had last written a letter or a line of poetry, it had been as if his creativeness had disappeared together with Giacomo. Not only his creativeness, but all the colors of his life, too, together with his happiness and peace had disappeared and had left a gaping wound in his chest, which, instead of healing, would grow only bigger every time that Friedrich would really acknowledge that it had been reality indeed. The long awaited letter, the proof that would allow the operation to begin, had come when Friedrich had last expected it. He had just finished taking a bath and had, wrapped in a bathing robe, walked across the room to sit in the rocking chair that had stood in front of the window - he had not even been able to look at their bed without feeling ready to cry - when someone had rapped at the door. “Who is it,” he had asked, not even trying to hide the disdain in his voice. Had it been to much to ask for some peace and quiet? “It is me, Sire.” “Enter, if you must.” And Wilhelm had must, but Friedrich had gasped silently when it had not been only the valet, but his advisors, ministers and lieutenants, too.

Friedrich had been given the letter, one which contained a detailed description of where Giacomo was being held and when Friedrich had pulled the second piece of paper to light, on which nothing more than a single handwritten line had stood. _"I do understand because I would choose the good of my country over myself, too"_ , he had been forced to sit down in the rocking chair unless he would have liked to fall onto the floor. There had been no doubt, his Giacomo had written those words, but with an untypically unsteady hand. But it had not only been the fact that he had been holding something which Giacomo had written, no, it had been his choice of words that had shaken Friedrich; he had not known what the Italian had meant, though whe he had looked up and at the faces of the men that had been watching with unreadable expressions, it had hit him much like a brick wall. Giacomo thought that he had chosen not to come for him, that he... had given up on him. The king of Prussia had pressed the balls of his hands against his eyes, so hard that he had been seeing stars, and had breathed heavily in order and with hope to be able to keep his composure upright. It had been of no doubt to him that Giacomo would presume such thinking had not been due to the free will of his mind, no, it had downright been out of the question. Why would Giacomo think something so implausible if Friedrich had not yet had the chance to contact him directly? The king of Prussia had hunched over, from one second to another and without being able to stop himself from doing so, and had then been holding his hands shielded over his face. It must had been the doing of Karl Eugen, yes, it most definitely had been the despotic duke who had told the Italian that Friedrich had given up on him and Friedrich had suddenly wished that he would not have read the letter after all, because... oh, if his Giacomo had really - that he had chosen the good of his country, _his country_ , over his Liebling, Friedrich had feared that the other things that Karl Eugen had surely talked into him, too, would reach way beyond the borders of his imagination. _His fault._

As much as he had wished for it to be a lie, deep down Friedrich had already known that Karl Eugen had not hesitated to force himself upon Giacomo, his Giacomo, and he had felt physically sick when he had wondered, against his own will, about whether it had happened more than one time or not. For Giacomo‘s sake he had hoped not. He had felt the urge to just swing himself on a horse and ride out; he had needed to find Giacomo, for the longing that had held his heart in an iron hold, the longing of having him back at his side and to be able to cherish and protect him again, had been strong enough to make Friedrich not notice how the guest in his room, had exchanged looks and low murmurs. Though before anyone could have adressed him, the king or Prussia had slowly risen onto his feet again, tightening his robe around himself with shaking hands before he had eventually wrapped his arms around his torso; they had not needed to see how a tremble had taken control of him. “How long will it to get a cavalry troop together and ready, Lieutenant,” he had asked, firmly keeping his gaze away from anything but the floor, hoping for the nausea, which he had believed to be visible on his face, to go - “If Your Majesty will give us half a day,” one of the lieutenants had answered with a bow of his head, “we shall be ready to leave on Your Majesty‘s command.” “Sire,” the valet had stepped him, as he, of course, had not missed the bad shape that the king had been in, “you cannot travel if you lack so much strength,” he had said, almost admonishing. “It will not do you any good, Sire.” “Do not,” Friedrich had snarled, looking up and pointing at his valet with an index finger, “it is not me who matters most!”

“Sire -” “Quiet!” The entire room had indeed fallen silent at the king‘s bark, and Friedrich had been breathing hard as his eyes had switched back and forth between Wilhelm and the Lieutenant. “Do as you must, Lieutenant.” “Yes, Your Majesty,” the lieutenante had answered dutifully and had taken the king‘s words as his hint to leave, which he had done after courting, and the other military officer had done it him alike. The king of Prussia had shot a dark gaze into the round of ministers and advisors, who then too had downright scrambled to get away before they would risk getting hit, verbally, by his anger. Wilhelm, the first valet, had stayed and Friedrich, on one hand, had wanted to snarl his desperate at him, he had really wanted to use it as a ventile, but had found himself to be lacking the required strength to do so. “Wilhelm,” he had whispered, almost breathed out, instead, and said man had been at his side and aid within a split second, holding Friedrich steady as he had helped him back down into his rocking chair. “I apologize for my outburst, but if the troop will be ready for departure tomorrow I will be leaving right away. It is nothing that you or any of my advisors could change.” Friedrich had adversed his eyes away from the valet to look back out of the window and at nothing in particular like he had done it so often in the past weeks, while Wilhelm had not taken his gaze off of him. The silente which had followed had not left and room for negotiations, the valet had known, of course, that it never would have been in his rights to criticise the king‘s decision, but he had also known that there had not been so much as a gram of doubt in Friedrich‘s words, despite how unsteady his voice had been as he had spoken them. “I do know that, Sire. I will personally make sure that everything will be ready for your departure as soon as it can.” The king of Prussia had not turned his head, but the valet had believed to see the faintest of a smile ghosting around the corners of his mouth. Wilhelm had bate Friedrich a good night and sleep - a bad joke, really, he had been well aware that the king would not leave the chair for his bed and when he had closed the door behind him, and had heard muffled sobs emerging from behind it, he had wondered if the damage that had been brought onto Friedrich and his lover was too great to be repaired.

The troop had, just as the lieutenant had promised, been fully assembled in the late afternoon hours of the following day, a day in which the palace of Sanssouci had been practically buzzing, more so than usually, from the many royal advisors, ministers and military officers that had been hurrying back and forth. Friedrich had given the highest tiers the limited decision-making power for the time that he would be gone, they would be allowed to act under the supervision of Elisabeth Christine only - she would finally be of use to him again for the first time in many, many years. Under different circumstances the manservants would have needed more than a whole day of work to pack the king‘s belongings and to load the carriages, but Friedrich had ordered, with a few cut-off words that he neither needed nor wanted to take much with him. He, too, had been wandering the corridors of his palace almost without rest and without a real aim, he had not been able to sit around and wait any longer, if it had a possibility he would have gotten into his carriage right now and order the coachman to depart. No, he had no longer been able to not have Giacomo back in his arms, to not free him from the unjust captivity. Sleep had not blessed itself upon the king of Prussia the night before, Friedrich had been brooding and staring out of the window until the sun had taken claim of the horizon again. Then, finally, the lieutenant had appeared on the swell of his study and had announced that the troop would be awaiting His Majesty‘s command from then on.

They had started their journey with the prospect of needing five to seven days until they would reach Stuttgart, the duke of Württemberg and hopefully Monsieur Casanova. One of the king‘s advisors had voiced that there could be the possibility of Karl Eugen having caught wind and thus having moved him to somewhere else and Friedrich had listened to it, but in his mind had dismissed it the second he had heard it. To him, it had not been an option. It could not be an option, because... what should he do if he would have to leave without his Giacomo? While he had been relieved that there had finally been an end in sight, after endless weeks, it had seemed that every day, every single hour that he would be spending on the road would push the dagger deeper in its wound of his heart. The further the carriage had driven along and the closer they had gotten to Stuttgart, the more Friedrich had began to realize the extend which this intrigue could possibly take. He neither could nor would let it go by with impunity, he would not rest until he would find a way to bring punishment upon those who had been responsible for it. But even if he would burry himself in the prospect of getting revenge, of thinking about just what he would do to them, Giacomo would be burning on his mind the whole time, he, too, neither could nor wanted to push him out of it. Friedrich had told himself, whether it had been out of desperation or refusal, that his Giacomo would be just alright, that the countless days under the... hand of Karl Eugen had not done so much as leave scratches at his person, that Friedrich would go and get him back and that they would continue their life together as if it all had been nothing but a mere hiatus.

It had been hopes, thoughts and dreams of a desperate man, but they had been the only reason why Friedrich had not gone crazy by then.

Then they had been there, finally, five days after having departed from Potsdam; five days in which the king of Prussia had done almost nothing but sit in his carriage in silence and in the somber melancholy of his thoughts. Friedrich had been peeking out from behind the curtain that he had drawn close in front of the window of the carriage ever since they had began to pass along the city of Stuttgard. They could have gone through it, Friedrich had not taken too many men with him, two dozen at most, but it would have been an action planted onto too unsteady ground, as they had no permission and the king had not filed a declaration of war against the dukedom of Württemberg - yet? And his heart, just like he had been staring out of the window, had been beating stronger than it would have needed to since Stuttgart had came into sight, not because of how risky their doing had been, no, but because Giacomo had not been so close within his reach as then. Friedrich‘s mind would argue with itself and over the words which the advisor had cursed upon him _“[...] should consider the... possibility that, if the duke of Württemberg has indeed caught wind of your planning, Your Majesty, he could have brought Monsieur Casanova to another place, if not [...]"_. No, his Giacomo had to be here still, he was here still since, as stupid as it may had seemed, Friedrich had been sure that he had been feeling Giacomo ever since they had gotten closer to their destination, he had felt as if something had gripped at his heart and was using that hold to pull him forward. _His Giacomo... oh, he would never let him go again, would never take his arms away from around him again and it it would mean that he would never be able to sleep at night again because he would be sitting at the younger‘s bedsite to guard him in his most vulnerable state, then so be it. He would get him back, even if it would mean_ \- A cavalryman had knocked at the window, unintentionally startling Friedrich, who cleared his throat and pushed the window open. “Yes.” “I apologize for the disturbance, Your Majesty, but we shall arrive at Solitude palace in no more than twenty minutes.”

The soldiers had acted fast, the few courtiers and workers which had been roaming about in the courtyard and which had seen them coming had quickly been detained and ordered, under a threat of punishment, to stay quiet. The courtyard had stood in almost deadly silence when Friedrich had heaved himself out of the carriage with an expressionless face. Those that had been detained had looked at him with wide eyes and slightly agape mouths, even if one would not have known who he was they would have been assured that the such an appearance did not speak of anyone lower than royalty. Friedrich had stood on one spot for a few minutes to take in the sight that he had been greated with, he had known that the construction of the palace had just been finished the prior year and he would have payed great money to see it destroyed. For Giacomo. The king of Prussia had limped across the courtyard, leaned heavily onto his cane; ever since he had heard of the raid his knee had been aching most of the time, constantly even, and it had done nothing to ease the aggravated mood that he had been suffering under. He had not spoken a word, not until he had reached the flight of stair which led to the entrance of the palace, where he had stopped and turned; “Lieutenants,” he had said, adressing the men which had been walking behind him with some distance, and the grip on his cane had tightened as, on his sharp nod, one of the lieutenants had straightened his back and had made a hand sign to the soldiers which had long dismounted their horses and had waited with their weapons ready. They had gotten in formation at the sign from their lieutenant, and had waited in utter silence. Friedrich had made a simple wave of his hands after a few moments, maybe a minute, had passed, and the men had stormed forwards.

They moved up the stairs with silence and a fast strodes; the silence, however, was broken when they downright kicked in the double-winged entrance door of the palace and stormed in with shouts of “do not move!” and “put that down!”. A few yelps came as answers, mostly from women, both courtiers and workers, but those yelps, too, fell silence when Friedrich stepped into the entrance hall and into their sight, the metal tip of his cane clicked against the stone floor. “Where is the duke to be found” Friedrich practically froze, for a mere second only, before he turned around to where he could hear someone clapping their hands. There, on top of the grand staircase he was. Karl Eugen of Württemberg. The duke had a humorless smile on his face and he continued to clap his hands together in an unfitting way as he took each step with a drawn-out slowness. “I must say that I am... a bit surprised,” Karl Eugen spoke, steadily making his way down the stairs and he and Friedrich looked each other much like animals that were ready to launch an attack. “Not that it is not a nice suprise, my old friend, but you could have given me notice. My, how long has it been? Ten or fifteen years, old -” “Where is he,” Friedrich had cut him off with a loud snarl, which had surprised both his men and himself, and had taken another step closer to the duke, who had looked as unimpressed as always, still wearing his typical smirk that Friedrich would have loved to wipe off with a nice hit of his fist. But he, sadly, had to hold himself back. The king of Prussia and the duke of Württemberg then stood close in front of each other, and the older man‘s jaw was working when Karl Eugen eyed him up and down.

“You surely have seen better days.” “Where is he,” Friedrich had merely repeated, fighting hard to keep a crack out of his voice, “tell me now, or I swear that I will not hinder my man from setting fire to this place.” “Oh,” Karl Eugen fake gasped, “it is him that you came for? I am very disappointed, old friend,” he had answered, turning his head to take in the sceene that was going on in the entrance hall of his home, his most cherished building project. When he spoke next, it was as casually as if they would have been talking about the weather, “But do not worry, old friend, your beloved Giacomo is more than fine. I actually just got... finished paying him a visit when you decided to break into my home, I had to make sure that my guest of honor was... satisfied.” Karl Eugen chuckled, then laughed cold and without humor when the Prussian‘s breath had audibly catched in his throat - he may have rested his hands on the waistband of his trousers in a way that had been as tale-telling as he had wanted it to be. “H-He is being held on the upper floor!” Karl Eugen was seemingly as surprised as Friedrich when a chambermaid, which had been watching rather in a hidden position from the upper floor, had stepped forward until she had stood at the top of the stairs and was holding a hand up, “I can show you where if you wish it, Your Majesty.” Friedrich did not give any further mind to Karl Eugen before he rushed past him and up the stairs, paying no mind to his hurting limb as he took two steps at a time. “It was you that had send the letter, has it not,” he said once he had reached the top of the stairs, the exertion thick in his voice. “Yes, Your Majesty,” the chambermaid answered, fumbling with the apron tied around her waist as she could feel the duke‘s eyes burning into her as he, too, took the stairs though, again, with much less speed. Friedrich nodded and he did not need to order for her to lead him to the room as she did so without further ado.

Could one forget how to breathe? Well, Friedrich asked himself just that because the intake of air he had drawn in as he saw how the chambermaid, after having guided him down a long corridor, took a turn to stand in front of a door. She did not look at him as she knocked, awaited an answer, and when no came retrieved a key from underneath her apron, put it in the lock and turned it twice; she opened the door, slowly so, and looked inside, then closed the door again. Friedrich was about to go forward and inside himself, but she turned towards him and stood herself into his path which confused the king of Prussia. “Do not speak too loud, Your Majesty, or move too fast. He is easily scared.” He stared at her, and the blank confusion must have shown on his face as the chambermaid, which would have been a great faux pas for someone else of her rank, leaned over to whisper into his ear just as he saw Karl Eugen walking in their direction. “It all was the duke‘s doing.” Friedrich kept his eyes closed for a long second, hearing what he had suspected being confirmed broke his heart all over again and he moved past the chambermade, put a hand flat onto the gilded wood of the door and pushed it open.

“Giacomo?” He stood frozen to the spot, hand still on the door, as his eyes had been fixen on the person that stood in front of the window, back turned towards him. It was him, it was him - his Giacomo, he was there, so close, and yet Friedrich could not do a single step forwards. Giacomo was trembling where he stood, arms tightly wrapped around himself, his eyes dull and hooded as he stared out of the window, at nothing in particular and without even realizing that he was doing so. _“Giacomo?”_ He had flinched when he had believed for his name to be called, and when he had believed for it to be called by Friedrich. It ususally was not anything out of the ordinary, he would often do so after Karl Eugen would leave after... gifting him with his presence, but he had never heard it quite that close to him. “Giacomo, I...” He parted his chapped lips to exhale abruptly - was he dying? Was his nearing death the reason why he could hear him so clear, without the curtain of long-gone memory? If it had been out of reflex or because his name was repeated once more Giacomo did not know, but he did slowly turn around and... his legs did give out when he only saw so much as Friedrich‘s face, and Friedrich had carelessly allowed his cane to hit the floor as he had hurried towards him, catching him before his knees connected with the hard ground. “Oh God, oh Giacomo,” the older man whispered and Giacomo‘s tremble did not disappear when a hand came up to cup the back of his head and pull it against the other‘s chest. Friedrich lowered them both in what was nothing more than a controlled fall and wrapped his free arm around the younger man, holding him close. He could not have cared less about his tears being visible, his heart ached too terribly for Giacomo, his poor, poor Giacomo who was trembling in his hold as if it was out of ice, who had not made a single tone, who... did not react at all, really, and it was what had made bile rise in Friedrich‘s throat. Giacomo was looking worse than he had expected him to be, his lips bloody from where he had probably bit down on them, his face pale and his eyes just as dull as his hair.

“I am so sorry, Liebling, I -” When he had said those words Giacomo‘s trembling had stopped, oh, but not because he had gotten his body back under control, no, because he had tried, flailing arms and legs, to get away from the hold and Friedrich, out of reflex, tightened his arms around him, whispering, “sh, Liebling, shhh,” like he had done it before when Giacomo had suffered from nightmares, “shhhh, Liebling”. His good intentions had the exact opposite effect, Giacomo struggled harder, so hard that Friedrich just barely managed to keep his hold on him, and in his helplessness he had turned around. But instead of the chambermaid it was Karl Eugen who watched them, leaned against the frame of the door with his arms crossed over his chest and a self-satisfactory smirk on his face. “It is remarkable, is it not. That he will be reminded of me every time that you call him that? And it was not even hard to teach him right.”

Friedrich closed his eyes and pressed Giacomo‘s head closer to his chest, he had began to rock him slightly and it indeed had helped to calm the young man somewhat, as he was no longer fighting. “I am so sorry,” Friedrich whispered, lowering his head to gently lean his cheek against Giacomo‘s head, running a soothing hand over his back, “I am so sorry, Sanssouci... I would have come sooner if I would have been able to. I am so sorry...” Giacomo, as if the cloud which had wrapped his head in had disappeared and he only then realized what was going on, blinked slowly. He could feel the other‘s heartbeat from where he was held against his chest, the hand in his hair was gentle and the voice - Friedrich. It only hit him then that it was Friedrich, and he stared ahead with then tear-filled eyes as he was washed away by a feeling of easement. It was Friedrich, his voice, his smell, his touches... his voice that called him “Sanssouci”, his touches gentle as always, his smell that Giacomo had missed so badly that it had wounded him. He was here, he came for him... He came... “F-Friedrich?” It had been ages since he had last spoken out his name, and it did seem somewhat surreal, so Giacomo repeated it again, “Friedrich?” and again “Friedrich?” “I am here my love, I am here, I am sorry that I could not be so sooner.” “Friedrich...” “Shhh, it is alright. We will be going home, Sanssouci, he cannot touch anymore. I am here now.” Giacomo closed his eyes, he was utterly exhaused, and Friedrich holding him was better than an angel‘s touch could have been and the roft rocking motion that the Prussian had fallen into did not make the lids of his eyes any lighter.

Friedrich was here, he came for him.


End file.
